An Authentic Life
by Saintsavory
Summary: Two teachers, one complication.
1. Chapter 1

I thought I was done for the day, and if I was done for the day, that meant I was done for the year.

"What happened with my last appointment, Peggy?"

The 70-something stalwart rolls her chair back so I can see her through the crack in my door. She's a cranky old woman, but I couldn't do my job without her. And truth be told, her irritable demeanor has become more endearing than aggravating.

"Cancelled."

"I can see that." I lower my laptop screen and give her a look through the sliver of the door. "Any more information you care to provide?"

"Said she had the flu." Peggy pops an apple slice into her mouth. "Or strep throat. The e-mail was so damn long, I might've just diagnosed her in my mind."

I rub my eyes under my glasses. "How about forwarding the e-mail to me?"

"Can do." Peggy wheels out of sight. "Oh, and I rescheduled her for Monday morning."

It might take Peggy a couple of minutes to remember how to forward the message, so I take that moment to just breathe. I tip my head back and close my eyes, waiting to hear the _ding_ announcing the new e-mail.

I had grand plans of unplugging for a few of days; going off the grid and letting the wind take me wherever it blows. That will have to wait.

 _Ding_

I exhale one more long breath before diving into the lengthy e-mail.

* * *

"Alright, Vause, summer is upon us and I'm dragging you out even if it kills me."

Eyes shut and head rolled back, I prop my feet onto the coffee table and sigh. "Who let you in?"

"The door was wide open." Nicky plops down next to me. "And you promised we'd go to Jam Fest this weekend. I have two tickets with our names on them."

"When did I make that promise?"

"You might've been slightly inebriated a couple of weeks ago."

I open my eyes and turn to her. "Who's playing at this _Jam Fest_?"

"There are five bands, and they each play a short set." She pulls my arm until I stand and pushes me towards my bedroom. "Change your clothes. We're doing this."

I had every intention of spending the weekend, relaxing at home and planning that road trip, but maybe it'll be good to get out for a while. I used to love going to concerts, but my job has consumed me for the past couple of years. Nicky is fond of reminding me to _live a little_ , and I owe it to myself to do just that.

As we drive to the park, windows down, Nicky turns to me. "How was your school year?"

"It's not quite over yet. One more interview on Monday."

"Must be hard being the big boss," she teases.

I glance at her. "I'm not the big boss."

She uses air quotes while saying, "Head of upper school—close enough."

I've somehow skated past my _what the fuck am I doing?_ stage and more into accepting my inevitable role in education. For the past 10 years, I've asked myself that question, yet I keep coming back to school. Five years in the classroom, two years as curriculum coordinator and now my second year as head of upper school.

"Never thought you'd be a teacher longer than you needed to pay off your student loans," she says.

I let out a short laugh. "Tell me about it."

Nicky parks the car, and we make our way downhill to the festival. There's a beer garden to our left, food tents to the right, and a huge stage in the middle. People have already set up blankets on the lawn, claiming their spot with the best view. We find a place on the far right of the stage where not too many people have gathered, and Nicky lays out a large, plaid blanket.

"This should do." She surveys the area. "Now for the important stuff. What kind of beer do you want?"

"Whatever's cold." I sit down. "When you come back, I'll get us some food."

I take a moment to appreciate the scenery—the sky is the bluest of blue, the trees are bright green and the lake just beyond the stage is glistening. It reminds me of how badly I need to get back in touch with nature. Then it hits me—that's what I'll do. I'll go camping. I lie on my back and smile, waiting for Nicky to return.

We're already two tall boys in as the second band sets up.

I grab the empty beer cans. "I have to pee. Be right back."

The sun hasn't set yet, but the golden glow across the venue is stunning. The only thing that makes me a little cranky is the bathroom line that snakes around a tree and down the sidewalk.

"You'd think they'd learn to make more women's restrooms than men's," I comment to no one in particular from my place in line.

The woman in front of me spins around. "Or make them gender neutral."

She's cute—mid-length blonde hair, blue eyes and a strong jawline. She's wearing a red tank top, linen shorts and flip flops.

"Good point," I reply.

"I wrote to the Spring Festival organizer in April about it. Never heard back." Her feet are dirty, and I wonder if it's from dancing barefoot on the lawn. "Guess I should write to the city instead since this is technically a municipal park."

I smile at her. "I'm impressed."

"At what?"

"That you'd take it that far—contacting someone about the bathroom issue."

She shrugs. "It's either that or complain about it without trying to find a solution."

The line moves forward.

"Most people would rather just complain."

She stares up at me with deep blue eyes. "I'm not most people."

 _Clearly_.

"It's my first time at this venue," I reply, glancing towards the stage as the second band starts playing. "I've been here for the farmer's market, but never for a concert."

"The acoustics aren't great but look around. It's hard to beat the scenery." I follow her roaming eyes until they land back on me. "Are you a reggae fan?"

"I like almost all music." I shrug. "Not country so much, but just about everything else. My friend drug me here more to enjoy being outside than to listen to any band in particular."

"Well, if you liked the first band, stick around for the last one. They're really good."

"There's a stall open," the woman behind me announces with a huff.

"Enjoy the show," the blonde says as she makes her way into the empty stall.

After using the restroom, I walk across the lawn and scan the thick crowd for the blonde. There are a lot of blondes in the audience, but the intriguing one is nowhere in sight.

"What took you so long?" Nicky asks from her perch on the blanket.

"The line was a mile long."

"My turn to urinate." She stands and begins walking away. "Want anything while I'm gone?"

"I could drink another beer."

By the time the fourth band takes the stage, it's dark and despite the lights around the venue, it's difficult to see anything other than the puffs of weed, wafting in the air. I haven't smoked a bowl since last summer, but the smell is enough to make me want to pick up the old habit if only for tonight.

"One more beer?" I ask, putting my shoes back on.

Nicky doesn't stop dancing. "Yeah, thanks."

I use the flashlight on my cell phone to find the path to the beer garden, and as with everything at this venue, there's a line, but at the end is a welcome surprise: the blonde from the restroom.

I grin. "It's Ms. Gender Neutral."

She doesn't recognize me at first, and then a smile creeps across her face. " _I'm_ not gender neutral." She puts a hand over her chest. "But the bathrooms should be."

"Right." I adjust my glasses. "Buying a beer?"

"Since this is the beer garden, that's a good assumption." She sways to the music, and I can tell she's high.

"Looks like you're enjoying the show." My eyes are drawn to her left shoulder where the strap of her tank top has fallen.

"I am. You?"

"It's good; better than I thought it would be," I admit. "Also enjoying the contact high."

Her eyes drag over my body. "You don't have any of your own?"

"Afraid not." I approach the counter. "Two Coors Lights and whatever she's having."

"Blue Moon, please." She steps aside. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." I pay for our beers, hand her the Blue Moon, and then grab the other two.

"I might have an extra joint." She walks back towards the lawn. "If not, we can share."

I think about it for a moment. Nicky already got pissy the last time I was gone so long, and now I'm withholding beer from her. "I better not."

"Are you sure?" She stops short, turns around and I run into her, flinging a few drops of Coors Light onto her chest. It might be dark, but there's enough light for me to see the glistening wetness on her chest.

I swallow hard. "Maybe a couple of hits."

Our eyes meet in the dim light, and her eyes sparkle like waves in a pool. She hooks a finger through the loop on my shorts and tugs me through the crowd as I spill beer along the way. We stop at her section, and she releases me.

"What's your name?"

"Alex."

She puts a joint between her lips and lights it. "I'm Piper."

"Nice to meet you."

"You, too." She hands me the joint, but I'm still carrying two cans of beer. "Your hands are full…Here." Piper takes a long drag, puts a hand on my cheek to line us up, and then presses her lips onto mine slowly releasing the smoke. I suck it in, and as good as the weed tastes, the feeling of her fingers on my face and her lips on mine is even better.

She pulls back, exhaling the last bit of smoke. "Good?"

"Yeah." I take a swig of beer and watch her dance to the next song, eyes drawn to her hips and ass. I want to toss the beers to the side and dance with her, but I need to get back to Nicky. "I should go."

"What?" she asks over the loud music.

I lean close to her ear, and despite the weed in the air, she smells sweet like baby powder. "I need to go."

She strings her arms around my neck. "Too bad."

I can't do anything with my hands, and all I want to do is touch her. Common sense would tell me to _put the beers on the fucking ground_ and dance with her, but common sense has gone by the wayside after consuming four, 16-ounce beers.

"Can I get your number?" I ask instead.

She pulls my phone out of my back pocket, fingers skimming my ass, enters her number, and then slips it back in. "If you change your mind, I'll be here for the rest of the show."

I nod. "I'll be in touch."

"Good." She turns back towards the stage and resumes dancing.

I walk back to our section with a stupid grin on my face.

"Seriously, Vause? What the fuck?" Nicky checks her watch, which I know she can't see through the darkness. "You've been gone for like half an hour!"

"I met someone." I hand her the beer.

She wiggles the can. "Did you drink half this thing?"

"I spilled some of it." I trip on Nicky's shoes and almost fall. "A lot of it, I guess." I hand her the other can, hoping there's more in it.

She steadies my elbow. "You sure you didn't drink it yourself?"

"Yeah. I mean, no, I didn't drink it myself. I might've had a hit." I laugh. "Did I mention I met someone? A _hot_ someone?"

"Jesus Christ, you're baked after one fucking puff?" I hear humor in her voice. "Why don't you sit down, let me get my groove on to this next song, and then we'll talk?"

"I'm not baked," I refute, lying on the blanket. "Just drunk."

The next thing I know, I'm waking up in the backseat of Nicky's car.

"What the hell?" I sit up, scratching my head. "Did I dream we were at a concert?"

"That was no dream, Lurch," Nicky comments. "Glad to see you're awake and I don't have to take you to get your stomach pumped."

"What happened?"

Nicky relays the evening to me as we pull into my driveway. That's right: I met someone. _Piper_. I smile as I recall how cute she was.

"I'm going to get you as far as the couch." She goes into the kitchen and returns with two Tylenol and a glass of water. "Sleep it off and call me in the morning."

I take the medicine and lie down. "Thank you."

* * *

I take Nicky to lunch the next day to thank her for getting my sorry ass home last night and to recap what happened. She assures me that I didn't make a fool of myself—at least not in her presence. I just fell asleep during the last act, but I was able to walk to the car on my own.

"You remember meeting some chick last night?"

"Yeah." I lower my fork. "I think she gave me her number." I check my recent call list and see her name. She must've used my phone to call herself so she'd have my number. "Piper."

Nicky giggles. "Do you even remember what she looks like?"

I take a long sip of water. "Tall, blonde, blue eyes. Nice ass."

"You've always been an 'ass' girl."

"It's all coming back to me." I put my elbows on the table and hold my head. "We were in the beer line, and she asked if I wanted to smoke out with her. We walked back to her spot on the lawn, and we shot gunned. She tried to dance with me, but I was holding our beers."

"I inadvertently cock-blocked you?" she laughs.

Ignoring her, I let out a soft _fuck_.

"She gave you her number." Nicky shrugs. "Give her a call."

"Maybe." I shove my plate away. "She looked young—maybe too young?"

"No such thing." She leans forward. "If she got a beer, she's at least 21. Those fuckers don't mess around, and they can sniff out a fake ID in a second."

I chew on that for a bit. "You're right. Maybe she was older…I don't know."

"That's why you should call her. Meet up again." She downs the rest of her Sprite. "I have to get going. I'll see you next weekend?"

"Yeah, probably." I stand, lost in my own thoughts. "Thanks again, Nicky."

"Anytime, champ."

* * *

By Sunday evening, I'm feeling better and have let go of some of my guilt for getting so shitfaced in public. Who knows if any Mounthaven parents, teachers or even students were at the concert. I can't beat myself up over it, but I _can_ check social media to make sure no incriminating pictures surface. As of seven o'clock, the coast is clear.

I make myself a salad and open my laptop, getting ready for what _should_ be my last day at school for at least a week before I have to return for summer hours. I check my phone a few times, but no one has tried to contact me. Who am I kidding? _Piper_ hasn't contacted me, and that's what's bothering me. She's been in the back of my mind all day. Maybe I read into things too much—perhaps she wasn't that into me and my active imagination had us exchanging glances and swaying to the music. I was drunk; my perception might not have been reality.

I reply to several work e-mails, then glance at my phone again. I'm being ridiculous. I'll do a coin toss: heads, I text Piper. Tails, I forget about her…at least for tonight. I flip a quarter high in the air, catching it and then turning it over on the back of my hand.

Heads.

I admit I'm a relieved—like now I have permission to contact her after "winning" the coin toss. I open a new text message: _We met at the concert. I was the tall, drunk woman._

I return to my inbox, trying to ignore the desire to glance at my phone every minute. I'm successful until just before 10 p.m. Maybe she doesn't remember me. I crawl into bed, and as I'm about to plug in my phone, I hear the chime of a new message.

 _I remember you, Alex. More like a tall drink of water_.

I'm relieved and a little turned on.

 _Haven't been that drunk in a long time. Hope I didn't make an ass of myself_.

 _You didn't_.

I wonder if I should press on or call it quits. I don't reply right away; instead, I pick up the novel I've been reading at bedtime and attempt to read another chapter. Five minutes pass without another text. After ten minutes, I glance at my phone to see if I mistakenly turned it on silent. I didn't. I read another few pages when my phone chimes again.

 _Would love to meet when we're both sober._

I smile. _Lunch tomorrow?_ I'm much too eager.

 _I have a thing tomorrow morning; not sure how long it will last. Happy hour_?

 _The Tunnel Bar around 4:30?_

 _Looking forward to it,_ she sends with a smiley emoji.

I put the phone down, turn off my bedside lamp and fall asleep happy.

* * *

I walk into my office Monday morning with a bounce in my step. "Morning, Peggy." I hand her an iced mocha.

"You're in awfully early for our first day of summer hours."

"Got a good night of sleep," I reply, opening my door and hanging my bag on the hook. "I want to crank out a few things today and take the rest of the week off."

"Lucky you."

I plug my laptop in and power it on. "You can take off, too, you know."

"I can't come and go as I please like you can," she complains, sipping her coffee drink.

"You can put in a request for time off." I open the blinds, letting in an abundance of natural light. "When have I ever denied your requests?"

"Never," she sighs. "Thanks for the iced mocha."

"You're welcome. Let me know when the candidate arrives." I close my door leaving it slightly ajar and sit down to find 32 new e-mails in my inbox.

I power through about ten of them before I hear Peggy get up. "The middle school has donuts. Want me to bring you one?"

"No, thanks."

"Alright, be back in a jiffy."

Peggy is slow as molasses; she'll be gone a solid 20 minutes. I ruffle through a folder on my desk titled _resumes_ and search for the one for the person I'm meeting in less than five minutes. There must be at least 50 resumes in the folder—some for teaching positions that have already been filled, others for part-time staff jobs that I'm hanging onto in case of emergency.

I glance at my online calendar to see the name of the candidate, but the only thing Peggy typed was "history teacher." I look back to the previous week when the candidate was supposed to come in on Friday. Same thing. I have no idea with whom I'm meeting this morning. Just as I'm about to find the e-mail I sent on Friday, I hear Peggy enter the vestibule.

"Peggy, from now on, I need you to write the name of the person I'm meeting with in my Outlook calendar, followed by the position he's applying for. I don't remember the name of this morning's candidate."

"Hello?" Someone pokes her head in the doorway. "There was no one out here, so I…"

"Piper?" I crease my brows and jut my head back. "How'd you know where I work?"

She looks equally confused. "I didn't…I don't." She takes a step back and reads the nameplate on the wall just outside my door. "Head of upper school?"

"Yeah," I nervously laugh, rolling my chair away from my desk. "What are you doing here?"

She turns her head slightly. "I'm interviewing for the history teacher position."

I stand, fingertips pressed against the edge of my desk. " _You're_ my 8:30 appointment?"

She remains rooted to the floor, gripping the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles are white. "I guess I am."

"There must be some kind of mistake." I move past her and look at Peggy's oversized, printed calendar. There, written in perfect penmanship, is her name. "You're Piper Chapman?"

She nods.

"Wow." I toss my head back and laugh, running a hand through my hair. "Wow. Um, ok." I open the door more fully, extending an arm to invite her in.

"I had no idea," she begins.

I return to my desk chair and gesture for her to have a seat across from me. "Clearly, neither of us did." Riffling through the folder I had my hands on a moment ago, I search through the stack of resumes and pull out Piper's. "You're a _student_ teacher?"

"I'm starting my senior year at Smith this fall," she states, sitting at the edge of the guest's chair.

"This is awkward." I pause, waiting for her to reply, but she remains quiet. "I can't hire you, Piper."

"Why not?"

"Because of _this_ …" I motion a finger between us. "And _that_." I gesture towards the window, hoping she understands what I'm trying to say without having to name it.

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Technically, I already have the position."

"Excuse me?"

"Dr. Bogan, the chair of the education department at Smith, placed me at Mounthaven for the semester. I met with your History department chair two weeks ago, and he told me it was a mere formality that I had to meet with the head of upper school."

"That's normally the case, yes," I begin, somewhat at a loss for words. "But you and I…we can't. _I_ can't."

"Alex." Seemingly more relaxed, she leans forward. "We had one… _weird_ …night. I hope you'd agree we're too professional to let that stand between us."

I lift my brows. "I'd be your boss."

She shrugs. "And?"

"And we were going to meet for happy hour later today." I shake my head. "Wait, what did you say—we had a _weird_ night?"

Piper shrugs. "We were drunk and high and got a little close."

"I wouldn't have done any of that if I knew you were going to be a teacher at my school," I state firmly.

"But you didn't know."

I'm backed into a corner now. If I hire her, there will potentially be an underlying attraction and tension between us. If I don't hire her, I'll have the history department chair and possibly Smith College on my back. Now I remember reading Piper's resume two weeks ago when the department chair forwarded it to me. She's a stellar applicant. There would be no logical reason not to bring her on board.

"Look." I raise my glasses to the top of my head. "If I hire you, we can't…" I let that hang in the air.

"Oh, of course. Right." She swats the air. "Do you have any questions about my qualifications?"

I scan her resume, not really reading what I'm looking at. "Why do you want to work at Mounthaven?"

"I'm a mission-centered instructor, and I identify closely with Mounthaven's mission to educate and inform students on a global scale," she says, quoting part of our mission statement.

It's that moment when I choose to look at her. I mean, really _look_ at her. She's wearing a sleeveless, ivory blouse that ties at the neck and a knee-length multi-colored skirt. Her hair is bouncy and shiny. She looks _completely_ different than she did Saturday night.

"Anything else you want to know about me?"

"Sorry, what?" I'd stopped paying attention to her answer when I started gawking. "No, thank you." I pause before saying, "I'm going to give you the contract, because, well, I kind of have to…and because you're obviously qualified."

"Good." She issues a small, victorious smile, and I wonder if she's accustomed to getting her way.

"And it goes without saying, we can't meet for happy hour later today or ever for that matter."

"Ever?"

"While you're employed here," I say, realizing my mouth is awfully dry.

"Fair enough."

"You obviously did some research on Mounthaven, knowing our mission statement and all." I sit back. "You didn't look at our website and see a picture of me?"

"Part of the school's website was down. I read educational reviews online and saw your name, but I never saw a picture of you," she replies.

Piper is right—our technology department began overhauling the website about a month ago, and it hasn't been fully functional for a while.

"What about your research on _me_?" She crosses her legs. "I have a rather unique first name. You didn't put two and two together when we met?"

"Under normal circumstances, I probably would've made the connection, but all the cylinders in my brain weren't firing on Saturday night."

She nods. "Well then, here we are."

The way the light catches her eye and reveals her soft skin makes her look younger than she is. No question about it—Piper is beautiful.

"Let's just forget about the other night." She stands.

"Yes, that's a great idea." I don't want to forget about it.

She extends her arm. "I guess I'll see you this fall."

I shake her hand. "It'll be here before we know it."

Our hands stay connected longer than they should, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I refuse to acknowledge what that means right now, but there's no denying our underlying attraction.

"Take care."

"You, too." She walks out the door, and I'm left only with the scent of her.


	2. Chapter 2

Summer is gone in the blink of an eye, and I'm in the throes of back-to-school everything. I thought about Piper often during the first few weeks of July, but by the time August rolled around, my mind was far more focused on the beginning of a new academic year. That, plus I went on three or four dates. None of them amounted to anything more than casual sex, but they were a much needed distraction.

The week before the students return to campus, I'm consumed with faculty meetings and a Board retreat. Although the head of school is responsible for the overarching message to the faculty, I'm in charge of details for high school. I've been so busy with planning the start of the year that it isn't until Monday morning when it hits me that I'll see Piper again.

I make my way to the assembly room for a continental breakfast and to greet returning and new employees, but Piper isn't in the room yet. Teachers are still arriving with smiles and hugs, telling stories about their summer break over scones and coffee. I always love the energy at the beginning of the year, and this year is no different.

"Hello, Alex." An art teacher glides in front of me. "How was your summer?"

"A lot of work, unfortunately, but I was able to get away a couple times." I smile. "Yours?"

"It was fantastic. My husband and I went to Paris…" She pulls out her phone to show me photos from their trip, but my eyes are drawn to the entryway where Piper has just arrived alongside the history department chair.

She has on a flowy, summer dress and is tanner than she was back in early June. She flashes her pearly whites as she shakes hands with our biology teacher, and then the Spanish teacher. I hear Piper's _nice to meet you's_ over the voice of the art teacher.

 _Musée du Louvre_

 _Les Trois Grâces_

 _Arc de Triumphe_

The art teacher is still talking, but I only catch every other mispronounced French word as I watch Piper breeze into the room with a sort of unassuming grace. Brent Gresham, the history department chair, introduces her to two other teachers, and Piper offers each of them a beaming smile. When she reaches the middle of the room, she stops to chat with our human resources manager, who I'm guessing she's met with to complete all the necessary paperwork. Piper seems at ease despite being in a new setting.

"I enjoyed the Rodin Museum more than the Louvre," the art teacher continues.

"Sounds like you had a great time." I snap back to the conversation at hand just in time. "I've always wanted to visit Paris."

"Oh, you simply must make it a priority."

"I will." I touch her arm. "If you'll excuse me…"

I try skirting along the wall to avoid talking to Piper at that particular moment, but a tap on my shoulder stops me.

"Alex, I wanted to introduce you to Piper Chapman, our student teacher from Smith," Brent says.

Upon hearing her name, Piper twirls around.

"We met at the beginning of summer," I state with what I hope looks like a self-assured smile.

"I didn't know if you two had connected before we left for break," he replies.

She shakes my hand. "Nice to see you again, Alex."

Her hand is smooth and soft and fits like a glove. "You, too."

"I'm not sure if she shared this when you two met, but Piper is interested in curriculum development," Brent begins. "I thought you'd be the perfect mentor since you were the curriculum coordinator here for two years."

"I don't know about being her mentor," I wrap my index finger and thumb around my glasses. "But I'd be happy to chat with Piper about the nuances of curriculum development."

"One of the reasons I wanted to teach at Mounthaven was because you don't offer IB or AP classes," she says.

"We dropped AP at the end of my first year as curriculum coordinator."

"That must've been a challenging year."

"It was a nightmare trying to get the parents on board," I reply, recalling how frustrating those first six months were. "The faculty was mostly all in but convincing our families that moving away from a standardized curriculum was healthier for our kids and wouldn't hurt college admissions was a long, arduous battle."

Piper watches me intently. "Did you already have another curriculum lined up?"

"For the most part. We were still hammering out a few details in the sciences, but eventually people latched onto the whole global education thing."

"Whoever had the idea of month-long international exchange programs is brilliant," she says.

I raise a hand just above my shoulder and try to conceal the blush spreading up my neck.

She smiles. "It has the potential to be a game changer in secondary education."

Brent clears his throat. "Well, I'll let you two finish your discussion. I need to talk with Marty about next week's symposium."

I have no idea how long Piper and I have been conversing, and I'm startled at the sound of his voice. "I was on my way for a coffee refill."

"I'd love to pick your brain more about curriculum stuff when you have a moment," Piper says.

I walk over to the coffee station. "Let's get a couple weeks under our belts, and then we'll talk."

"Sounds good."

* * *

Piper has proven to be a major distraction. It's not that she's doing anything out of the ordinary; she just _exists_. Sometimes I see her laughing with a colleague, head rolled back, and I can't take my eyes off her neck. Other times, she's focusing on a guest speaker so intently that I don't think she'd notice if the person next to her was naked. Still other times when I watch her explaining something to another teacher, she's so animated that the other person can't help but share her enthusiasm. But the moment she captivates me most is during our last faculty meeting when she tucks a pencil behind her ear as she listens to the dean of students talk about consequences for behavior infractions.

 _Consequences_

The word echoes in my ears like a foghorn. I blink a few times and turn my attention to the speaker. I shouldn't observe Piper the way I have been, and I need to be mindful of drawing attention to myself. Besides, I have far too much to accomplish over the next few days than to have Piper distracting me at every turn. Funny thing is, I don't think she notices me. When I find myself looking at her, she doesn't turn my way or catch my eye. Her intense focus is one of the things I admire most so far. I'm thankful I'm not a distraction for _her_.

* * *

The first week of school is as chaotic as I thought it would be—finalizing the handbook, student schedule changes, faculty unhappy with which periods they're teaching, the registrar announcing her retirement on the first day of classes, and parents who want "a minute of my time," which always ends up being far longer than one minute. My calendar is booked from 8 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. daily, and that doesn't count the pop-up meetings that occur during 10 minutes of what is supposed to be down time.

Peggy tosses a stack of mail on my desk. "School would be so much better if there weren't kids involved."

I get a good chuckle out of that. "Then it wouldn't be school."

She makes a grunting sound as she exits. "Oh, by the way, when do you want me to schedule department chair meetings? They're not on the calendar yet."

I rifle through what appears to be mostly junk mail. "Whatever we did last year is fine."

"Teacher schedules are different."

"Figure it out, Peggy. You always do."

She shuffles back to her desk, and I could swear she says, _pain in my ass_ , under her breath.

* * *

Mounthaven is a small school—roughly 50 students in every grade. Although we have six buildings on campus, the high school is mostly contained to one building on top of a hill. I occupy the corner office at the end of a hallway on the main level, and the history department's office is four doors down with two classrooms in between. If I'm sitting at the right angle and both doors leading to my office are open, I can see everyone who passes, which means I see Piper often.

She gets to school between 7:10 and 7:20 every morning and moves like she's on a mission. Very few people are in the building that early, so I know she's not rushing off to a meeting. It isn't until Day 10 when I say _good morning_ to her.

She stops, squints and peeks inside without getting any closer. "Morning."

"You've been getting to school early" comes out of my mouth before I consider that it might sound like I've been noticing what time she arrives. I _have_ , but she doesn't need to know that.

"I usually take the bus." She steps to the edge of the vestibule outside my office, pointy black heels touching the carpet. "If I don't catch the 6:55, the next one isn't until 7:30, and that would be too late to get here and prep for my first class."

I set my pen down. "You don't prep for classes the day before?"

Piper steps inside the vestibule, right next to Peggy's desk, and I'm drawn to the curve of her hips. "I prep two days in advance for each class, but I like to have time in the morning to make sure everything is in order—make copies, update Power Point slides, review essays, grade quizzes—those kinds of things. Plus, I make it a habit of not checking e-mail at night, so I usually have two or three I have to reply to in the morning."

"Two or three?" I laugh. "Try 30-40."

She grins. "That's why they pay you the big bucks."

"Hardly." My smile diminishes, but I feel my lips still tugging upwards as I appreciate Piper's presence. She has on fitted Navy blue pants and a white scallop-necked blouse. Her hair is a little messy, but somehow it looks fashionable. "You can say hi when you pass by in the morning."

"Ok." She gives me a tiny smile, and then juts her head to the right. "I better get my day started."

"Have a good one."

"You, too."

I rest my head on the back of my chair and shut my eyes. There's no denying she's lovely in every way, and although I have no proof of it yet, I'm guessing she's highly intelligent. I'm proud of myself for not allowing Piper to permeate my thoughts these past couple of weeks, and I'm also grateful that she hasn't made things awkward between us. As far as I can tell, she has no interest in anything other than a professional relationship with me, and that's the way it should be.

* * *

By the third week of classes, things at work have calmed down considerably. I'm still putting in 10-12 hour days, but I'm not taking as much work home as I did in the beginning. Other than a few random, last-minute meeting requests throughout the week, my schedule is fairly set, and having a bit more of a routine allows me to be more efficient.

"Knock, knock."

I look up to see Brent Gresham in the doorway. "Come in."

"Our first meeting of the semester." He sits in the chair across from me.

"Yes." I open a file on my computer and quickly scan the notes he sent at the start of the year. "How are things going?"

Brent fills me in on four students who are struggling as well as those who are excelling in class. He tells me about a proposed field trip to Boston in a few weeks and asks for chaperones. Finally, he tells me about how each of the other three history teachers are doing.

"Piper is an even better teacher than I'd hoped," he reports.

It doesn't surprise me. "How so?"

"She plans each lesson far enough in advance to allow for adjustments as needed," he begins. "And she's flexible with her time in every class, allowing the discussion to evolve naturally. If that takes her off track a bit from what she'd planned, she goes along with it."

I know the answer to this, but I have to ask. "It's not impacting the material you expect her to cover?"

"Not at all. She's good at making up time either later that day or the next time the class meets."

"How are the students treating her?"

He shrugs. "They love her. At least so it appears. You should go to one of her classes and observe."

"That's part of my job, so…"

"If things continue going this well, I'd like to talk about keeping her on for next year."

"It's a bit premature for that, but we can certainly keep it on the table."

Brent rises to his feet. "She really wants to be more involved in curriculum development, so whatever time you can spend with her, even if it's limited, would be great."

I stand. "I'll have Peggy block out some time for us in the next week or so."

"Perfect."

I had a feeling Piper would be a good teacher, so I'm not surprised to hear how well she's doing. Since things between us seem to be purely professional, I don't see the harm in spending time alone with her to discuss curriculum.

I poke my head out the door. "Peggy, would you please find time for Piper Chapman and I to meet in the next couple of weeks?"

"How much time would you like?"

"Half an hour to start," I reply. "We'll see what happens after the initial meeting."

* * *

Other than going to work and a three-day conference in Philadelphia, I haven't left my house this fall. Nicky has been nagging me for two weeks, so I finally give in and meet her for dinner that Saturday night.

"Are those bags under your eyes, Vause?" She pats me on the back.

"Probably."

"The kiddos keeping you up at night? Shame on them. You know, I hear there's a push in schools to bring back corporal punishment."

The hostess seats us at a table near a window.

"When I was in school, we got paddled." Nicky makes a swinging motion. "Let me tell you, it straightened my ass right up."

"Didn't seem to stick as you moved into adulthood," I chide.

As we nosh on meats & cheeses from a charcuterie plate, Nicky fills me in on her life, and by the time our entrees arrive, she starts asking questions about our new faculty. I haven't told her about Piper yet, mostly because we haven't talked much, but I know I need to fess up.

"Any hot new teachers this year?"

"One." I pop a piece of Manchego into my mouth.

"Really?" Her eyebrows jump up. "Do tell."

"Don't go fucking ape shit when I tell you this."

Nicky holds her breath, waiting for the big reveal.

"Remember the woman I met back in June at Jam Fest?"

She considers the question for a moment, and then nods. "Yeah, the blonde with the nice ass and the weed."

"She's one of our student teachers."

Nicky lets out a wild laugh. "You have to be shitting me!"

"I shit you not."

She slams her hands on the table. "Holy fuck, Vause!"

"I know." I take a sip of wine. "It's actually been relatively drama-free. The first couple of days were awkward, but it's been fine for the last month."

"You see each other, right? Don't tell me she's no longer hot."

"Of course, she's still hot." I wipe my mouth with a starched napkin. "And yes, I see her probably once or twice a day, but everything is normal. I don't think she even notices me."

"Trust me, if she has even the slightest gay bone in her body, she notices you."

"Well, I don't notice her noticing _me_ ," I add. "It's better that way, you know? Keep things professional, have minimal contact and just get through the year."

"If you say so." She finishes her wine.

"Fuck," I mumble. "This can't be happening."

"What?"

Nicky spins her head around.

I bury my face in my hands. "That's her."

"Who? The hot teacher?"

I slink down further into my chair to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"She's hot alright. I'll give you that."

Piper tosses a pashmina over one shoulder as she approaches our table. "Alex?"

I act surprised to see her. "Piper, hi."

"Hi." Her smile is as radiant as ever. "How was your meal?"

"It was good. Yours?" I sit up more fully, hoping she didn't see me try to disappear.

"We're just arriving for dinner." She steps to the right. "This is Christine. Christine, this is Alex, the head of upper school at Mounthaven."

"Nice to meet you." Christine is an older, fit Asian woman with cropped hair, a welcoming smile, and a deep voice. My gaydar is pinging hard.

"You, too."

Nicky waves. "I'm just a friend."

"Hi," she says.

"Piper has told me good things about her experience at Mounthaven," Christine offers.

"We're pleased with how well she's doing so far." I can't help myself when I follow up with, "How do you two know each other?"

"Christine is my advisor at Smith."

"Ah." I feel my shoulders drop with relief and damn myself for feeling a twinge of jealousy before learning about their relationship.

"We won't keep you." Piper touches my shoulder. "Nice running into you like this. Have a good weekend."

"You, too."

The couple walks away, and Nicky is staring at me. "If you ask me, Vause, your young friend is into older dykes. You still might have a chance."

I shoot her a look. "I don't want a chance. Let's get out of here before things get even more awkward."

As we walk down the sidewalk away from the restaurant, I feel tension throughout my body.

"I know I'm giving you shit, but I'm just playing around." Nicky bumps my arm with her shoulder. "I get that it would be unprofessional for you and Piper to do anything romantic or sexual. I'm just sorry the circumstances are what they are."

"It's no big deal, really." I shrug.

"Then why do you look so tense that you're walking like a mummy?"

"I'm attracted to Piper; I'll admit that out loud." I stop under an awning as the rain begins to fall. "Things are going well at school, and everything is as it should be."

Nicky takes a few steps back and stands in front of me.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better or spend time with her—I just _can't_ , and that kind of sucks," I finish.

"Maybe when her student teaching gig is up, you two can spend time together without worrying about power dynamics."

"Maybe." I try to smile and look up at the rain falling under the glow of a street light. "I'm going to run to my house from here."

She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. "You sure you don't want a ride?"

"I live three blocks away—I won't melt."

Nicky pulls me in for a hug. "If you need to talk, you know how to reach me. I can put the asshole side of myself away for a serious conversation if necessary."

That makes me smile. "Doubt it but thank you."

"You bet. Take it easy, Vause."

I walk back to my house instead of running. The rain actually feels good on my skin.

When I arrive at home, I change into more comfortable clothes and open my laptop. I do an internet search for Piper, and four links appear. The first is about a paper she presented at a student conference on differentiated education. I read about her research as well quotations from two of her professors who sing her praises. The second link is just a list of members in The National Education Association of Aspiring Educators. The third is a picture of Piper in high school in a track uniform. Apparently, she was a decorated runner, winning second place in the state tournament her senior year. She looks the same, just a little younger and thinner. I prefer the current version of her, a little more filled out but equally attractive. The final is her Linked In profile. I spend a little time reading her online resume, but it doesn't contain anything I don't already know, except for the paper she presented last year at the conference. Her headshot at the top of the page looks exactly the way she does now, only I have yet to see her with wavy hair.

I close my laptop and stretch. I want to get to know her more, but I fear that by doing so, my attraction will only grow. I can't have that.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday and Tuesday are a blur. I dealt with a student discipline issue that took far more time than I expected it to, plus a day of back-to-back meetings with department chairs, the parent association, and alumni relations. It isn't until Wednesday when I feel like I can breathe.

"Hi," I hear from my doorway.

I can't suppress a smile. "Hey."

"I've tried to catch you the past couple of mornings, but your door has been shut."

I lower my laptop screen. "Yeah, it's been a crazy week."

Piper steps fully into my office, something she hasn't done since I interviewed her in early June. "I hope it was ok that I approached you at Meditrina the other night."

"Yeah, it was fine." I try to act laid-back. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She shrugs. "I didn't know if you were on a date or something."

That makes me chuckle. "Trust me, Nicky is just a friend."

"Oh," she replies. "Christine taught two of my classes at Smith and she's my faculty advisor. "She's married…" she pauses, looks at the ground, and then adds, "To a woman."

Interesting that Piper chose to add that little detail.

"I didn't want to assume..."

She lowers her head, and I swear she's trying to hide a blush. "I have a student meeting in literally two minutes, but I'll see you this afternoon."

I crinkle my forehead. "You will?"

"Our curriculum discussion."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I'm sure it's on my calendar; just haven't looked that far ahead yet."

 _Fucking Peggy_

"Ok, see you then."

"Have a good day."

And I do—have a good day, that is. I'm pleased with the way Piper acts around me. She's chatty but not flirtatious. I respect the way she handled herself the other night at the restaurant, and I admire that she wanted to check in with me to see if coming over to my table was appropriate. The kid knows how to be an adult, which should make things even less awkward as time marches on.

* * *

"These old dogs are barking," Peggy announces as she pushes back in her desk chair. "I'm going to soak them in a hot tub of water when I get home." She slowly gets to her feet. "Don't forget, you have a meeting with Piper Chapman at 4:45."

"Yeah, about that—" I set down my pen. "It would be helpful if you sent a calendar request through Outlook so I can accept the meeting and set a reminder. Remember I showed you how to do that?"

"So many damn steps," she huffs.

"I know, Peggy. I know." The woman really does need to retire. "Just give it a try next time. It'll make my life easier."

"That's what I'm here for," she replies.

I wonder if she really thinks she makes my life _easier_. I roll my eyes, though she can't see me as she has already shuffled out the door. "Have a good evening," I call.

I glance at the clock, noticing I have 15 minutes before Piper arrives. I wrap up a couple of e-mails, and then find a few documents about curriculum development that I print for her.

"I'm a little early." Piper pops into the vestibule 10 minutes later. "I can come back if you want."

"No, come in." I fumble with the stack of papers off the printer when I get a good look at her. "You changed clothes."

In place of the skirt and sweater she had on earlier, she's now wearing yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt with her pink bra strap showing. I suspect it's unintentional—like she rushed to changed clothes and didn't straighten her shirt.

"I figured it was after hours," she says hesitantly. "I'll change back into my work clothes if this is inappropriate."

I don't look directly at her as she stands in my doorway in those form-fitting pants. "No, it's fine. You're making me wish I would've brought a more comfortable outfit."

"I'm going to try to make a yoga class after this, so I thought I'd get dressed here rather than wait until I get to the studio."

"It's no problem, really." I sit in one of the two guest chairs and invite her to sit in the other. "How are your classes going so far?"

"Great," she replies. "The kids are good, they pay attention in class for the most part, and they're doing well on quizzes. My Western Civ class has their first big test on Friday, so we'll see how that goes."

"Did Brent ask you to hold off on giving them a test until mid-October?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I just figured freshmen need to ease into the pace of high school classes. I've given them longer quizzes each week to get them more in the mindset of taking an hour-long test."

"That's a good strategy."

She crosses her legs, and my eyes are drawn to them again. "I hope it works."

"I'm sure it will." I hand her two articles. "So, what got you interested in curriculum development?"

"I took an instructional strategy class last year that piqued my interest," she begins. "I went to a private high school that offered AP and remember the last couple of months of school, cramming for the AP exams. I hated learning like that. It wasn't learning at all—the teacher tried to cover all the salient points she hadn't gotten to yet in like a month when they should've been spread over two or three months."

"That's what I noticed when I first arrived at Mounthaven." I open my laptop and prop it on my desk, facing both of us. "I made these graphs about student performance in the fall and spring semesters in all of our courses, and you can see here that in the AP classes, performance dropped significantly in March and April."

"Huh."

"I correlated that with first-hand accounts from students and teachers about what was happening in the classroom for those AP classes." I click a button and show her the next page. "You can read some of the quotations." I give her a moment to review them. "Teachers and students were burnt out, and it was primarily because of the prep that went into AP exams."

"That's exactly what I suspected." Piper examines the next page that has another set of graphs. "How did you convince everyone that AP wasn't worth the stress and anxiety?"

"It took two years of convincing," I admit with a sigh. "The first year was more about observation and documentation. The second was all about facts and figures. I worked closely with our learning specialist and another teacher who works with our faculty on differentiated learning." I walk over to my bookcase and grab a bound document. "We put together this report and presented it to the head of school and the board of trustees."

"Impressive." She flips through the booklet. "Mind if I take it home to read?"

"Sure." I sit back down. "The next half of the year, I had to convince the faculty that they could come up with a better, more global curriculum with the addition of project-based learning."

"How'd they react?"

"Most of them were excited, but there were about five or six stalwarts who didn't budge."

She takes a sip from her water bottle. "How'd you get them to see the logic in what you were proposing?"

"I met with them individually and as a group every two weeks. I presented my findings, answered questions, helped guide them through what a new class might look like. Three of them stayed at Mounthaven and seem to be pretty happy here and two left."

She raises her eyebrows. "They quit over not offering AP?"

"Yes." I nod. "And to be honest, we don't need them here anyway. If all a teacher wants to do is follow a standardized curriculum with a plug-and-play model, they don't belong at a school where our families expect more."

A smile slowly spreads across Piper's face. "I totally agree."

We continue looking at reports and talking about how Mounthaven made the transition away from a standardized curriculum. By 5:30, I've shed my blazer; by 6:15, I've rolled up my sleeves; and by 7 o'clock, my shoes are off.

I turn to Piper, who is sitting on my desk with a legal pad in hand, furiously scribbling notes. Her legs are slightly apart as she balances the notepad on her lap and presses the pen to paper. Her left hand is splayed on my desk next to her butt and her long sleeved shirt is shoved past her elbow, giving me a nice view of her forearm.

 _Her forearm_ —like there's anything sexy about that part of a person's body. But I'll be damned if Piper's forearm isn't sexy. I can barely see the veins in her wrist that travel under her sleeve, and I count three beauty marks randomly strewn about her smooth skin. Her fingers are all but gripping the desk for balance, and my mind shifts to what that might look like _under very different circumstances_.

"Did you hear that?" She puts a hand on her belly. "That was my stomach growling. What time is it?"

I avert my eyes, hoping she didn't see me staring at her arm and glance at the clock on my computer. "Almost 7:30."

She jumps off the desk. "Shit!"

This meeting was scheduled for 30 minutes, and we've been here for nearly three hours.

"Did you miss yoga?"

"I missed the class I wanted to go to, but if I hurry, I'll only be a little late for the next one." Piper puts her legal pad in her messenger bag and hoists it over one shoulder, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach. "Thanks for your time."

I hand the water bottle to her. "No problem."

"Next time, we should plan better—maybe order dinner or something."

"Maybe." I shouldn't be as excited as I am about that idea, but I try to play it off. "I've never met anyone as excited as you are about curriculum development."

She tucks the water bottle into its pocket on the side of her bag as she walks to the door. "I have a lot to learn from you."

 _And I from you_ , I think.

"Enjoy yoga." I smile.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow."

I turn my head from one side to the other, cracking my sore neck. I'm the one who could probably use a little yoga right now. I arrange my guest chairs back in order and pick up a few pieces of paper strewn about the room when I notice Piper's laptop propped on its side next to my desk. I walk briskly down the hallway and call her name, but she's already gone.

I arrive at home just after 8 o'clock, turn on some music and make a turkey sandwich with the last of my deli meat. If I don't go to the grocery store in the next day or so, I'll be eating tuna right out of the can for the foreseeable future. I kick my feet up on the coffee table and enjoy the sandwich with a cold beer when my phone buzzes.

 _Did I leave my laptop in your office?_

I smile. _You did._

 _Crap. Need to finish a project—any chance you'll be at school early tomorrow morning?_

 _I'm always at work early._

 _Like 6:30 early?_

 _That IS early._

 _Please?_

I can't resist her request (it's too soon to acknowledge that I might not be able to resist _anything_ she asks.) I type, _Alright._

 _Thank you! Will make it up to you._

I would very much like her to make it up to me, but I keep that to myself. I can't want that. Instead, I type: _See you tomorrow_.

* * *

I don't examine my choice of clothing too closely the next morning, but I'm wearing a far nicer outfit than I usually wear to work. It's a long-standing tradition that on Fridays, faculty and staff wear jeans to school, and on this particular day, I wear my black Armani jeans, pointy boots and a maroon drape-neck blouse I bought at Saks the last time I was in Boston. I even wake up 20 minutes early to curl my hair in long, thick chunks.

The only other car in the parking lot at 6:25 a.m. is our lead maintenance guy's. The air has a bit of a chill to it this morning, and I'm glad I pulled my leather jacket out of hibernation before I left.

"Hey." Piper startles me from her position on the floor in front of my office.

"Fuck! You scared me."

"Sorry." She stands, handing me a white cup. "I took a chance that you like pumpkin spice lattes."

I take the coffee. "I love a good PSL, thank you."

"It's from Cora's Coffee on Fifth." She hoists her bag over a shoulder. "Way better than Starbucks if you ask me."

I fumble with my keys. "I've been there a couple times, but I've never had their pumpkin coffee." I open the door, allowing Piper to step inside first.

"The light in here is magnificent," she says.

I forgot to turn off my lamp and close the blinds before I left, and the early dawn glow makes the room come alive.

"You should see it when the sun rises," I comment. "It's my favorite time of day."

"I'll bet…Ah, there it is." She picks up her laptop, and then stands in the middle of the room. "You look nice, by the way. Special occasion?"

"Thank you, and no." I shrug. "Just trying to step up my game on Fridays."

Her eyes slowly scan my body. "You succeeded."

We stare at each other for a few seconds longer than we should, and I want to touch her—anywhere is fine—her hand, _that fucking forearm_ , her hair, shoulder.

I reach over to turn on the floor lamp, and as soon as the bright light filters into the room, the spell is broken.

"I better get to work." Piper walks to the door. "Thanks again for meeting me so early."

"You're welcome." I shake my head, trying to banish thoughts of touching her.

"By the way, are you going to the Fall Festival this weekend?" she asks.

"Kind of have to." I move behind my desk—using it as a barrier between us. "It's not so bad, actually. They usually have decent food and the families enjoy the games."

"The weather is supposed to be perfect," she adds.

"I hope so."

"Well, if I don't see you the rest of the day, I guess I'll see you there."

I smile. "Have a good day."

* * *

Author's Notes: I acknowledge this was a short chapter, but I hope you found it rich with dialogue and attraction. I also hope I've started to strike the balance between their professional relationship and a budding personal one. I know I can geek out over educational speak, so if that part turns you off, you won't like what's ahead. Thank you so much to those of you who've left reviews so far! Please keep them coming.


	4. Chapter 4

It's the kind of Autumn day when everyone should be outside—bright sunlight, 65 degrees and a cool breeze. The forest surrounding our school is bursting with colorful leaves, and its times like this when I'm so thankful to live in a place with four seasons.

The annual Fall Festival is a big fundraiser for the school, and every administrator is involved in some way. For the second year, I'm a volunteer in the apple cider booth, and the parent association asked me to participate in a relay race this afternoon. I reluctantly agreed, because I know students would like to see me humiliate myself for a good cause.

I spend an hour chatting with parents, teachers and a few students from my spot in the booth. We have a supportive community at Mounthaven, and I thank my lucky stars that I'm not working in a public school like the one I attended. I can see myself here long-term.

As I'm about to wrap up my volunteer shift, I spot Piper walking across the field with two students. They're each licking one of those huge lollipops that's almost as big as their heads. Piper is wearing jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt with another shirt underneath, and her hair is in a ponytail. If I didn't know who she was, I would assume she's a senior or recent graduate. The two students peel off in another direction, and Piper walks towards the apple cider booth. When she sees me, a smile crosses her face.

"It's going to take you all day to eat that thing," I say as she approaches the booth.

"That's ok." She shrugs, glancing at the colorful lollipop and then back at me. "I like licking things."

Oh, _fuck_.

"I won it at the milk bottle toss." She shows no signs of remorse for making such a statement. "It was either this or a stuffed giraffe."

Once I recover I offer, "At least with the giraffe, you could sleep next to something tall and relatively cute."

"Giraffes _are_ cute," She takes another lick. "But I'd rather sleep with tall, hot women."

I gulp and look away; I am far too close to the flame.

Piper changes the subject, and I wonder if she senses my anxiousness. "How long are you working in here?"

"Another 30 minutes or so."

"That's not bad." Piper twists her neck to look at the other booths lining the side of the field. "I heard you're participating in the relay race."

"I'll probably regret it," I sigh. "You?"

She nods. "That, plus playing in the faculty/student kickball game."

Our PE teacher approaches the booth and taps Piper's arm. "Game starts in 15 minutes. We're about to do a little warm up if you want to join us."

"I'll be right there," she replies. "What about Alex?"

He chuckles. "We've asked her to play every year, but she refuses."

I hold up my hands. "Still true. I'll support the faculty, but I'm not a kickballer."

"Too bad," Piper replies.

He nods in her direction. "See you out there."

"I guess I'll see you in the stands, then."

"Yeah." I wave and watch her walk away.

"Hi, Ms. Vause," a senior greets me, taking Piper's place.

"Hi, Neemah. How's it going?"

I make small talk with Neemah and her mom for a few minutes, and then one of the parents interrupts us, telling me she'll take over in the cider booth. As I walk to the field where the kickball game is taking place, every few steps, a student, parent or teacher says hello to me. Sometimes they want to chat, but most of the time, it's a quick "how are you doing?" I feel well-liked and respected at school and have only had run-ins with a handful of demanding or dissatisfied parents. There are a few faculty members who are pains in the ass, but for the most part, Mounthaven is relatively drama free.

I hand the Student Council kids $1.50 for a bag of popcorn, and then take my place in the stands to watch the game. Piper's flannel shirt is now tied around her waist and she's wearing a white baseball t-shirt with green, quarter length sleeves and a backwards ball cap. I take in the sight of her and gulp. _Guh_.

I'm going to try cataloguing the many shades of Piper Chapman—I've seen the casual side and the professional side, now I want to see the sexy side. Not that her current look isn't sexy; I'm talking _knee-high leather boots and a fitted dress with a slit up the side_ sort of sexy. No matter how she looks, there's no question I'm drawn to her. I reflect upon the deep conversation we had about curriculum development yesterday versus how she's playing kickball, looking like a tomboy today. She's a lesson in contrasts.

"Mind if we sit next to you?" a parent asks, stirring me from my musings.

"Sure." I scoot down a bit and end up conversing with her and her husband for much of the game.

During the last inning, our art teacher, the one who bent my ear about her summer trip to Paris, twists her ankle as she rounds first base. I walk onto the field to survey the situation, but the athletic trainer beats me to it, determining that it's just twisted, and she needs to ice it.

"We need another player." The PE teacher sticks his hands on his hips. "You know I wouldn't ask if we weren't desperate."

"Uh, no." I shake my head. "Not me."

"Please," Piper pleads. "All you have to do is kick one time. Brent is on third, and if he scores we win. Easy."

"Easy for you," I retort.

She locks eyes with me and runs her hand down my arm, squeezing my wrist. "We _need_ you, Alex."

How is it that I hardly know her, but I can't resist her plea?

"Fine," I protest. "One kick, and that's all."

The faculty cheer, but the student team shouts things like "easy out, guys!" and "let's beat Ms. Vause!"

I taught the pitcher English for two years, and I'm writing one of his college recommendations. "You better put some heat on it, Blake."

"If I strike you out, will you still write my letter?" he asks through a big smile.

"No," I joke.

"Alright guys bring it in." He waves the outfield closer. "Ms. Vause has never played kickball in the four years I've been here! This is a piece of cake!"

"Just watch the ball all the way through," the PE teacher coaches from down the first base line.

The first pitch rolls by, and the umpire calls a strike.

"It's ok! You can do it!" Piper yells. "Three steps and kick it with all your might!"

"I'll give you a raise if we win," the head of school, Louisa, shouts from the dugout.

The second pitch is a little bouncier, but I connect my foot with the ball and watch it sail right over the left fielder's head. Cheers erupt from the faculty bench as Brent scores and we win the game by one run. The teachers pile on me like we've just won the Super Bowl, and I get knocked to the ground, laughing along the way. I realize Piper is hovering over me, bracing herself with her hands on the grass on either side of my head.

"You did it!"

I hold her waist so we don't go tumbling over, effectively crushing us, so really, it's more for our _safety_ than for the exhilaration her body on top of mine. She smells like grass and dirt and _kickball_.

"Doesn't it feel good to win?" she asks.

 _You feel good_ , I want to say. "Not really. Everyone needs to get off the pile before we get crushed."

"Everyone?" she whispers.

Teachers peel off one by one, and I'm left lying there with words hanging on my tongue that I don't voice: _No, not everyone_.

By the time we're all standing and celebrating with more high fives than body piles, Piper goes over to the student team to congratulate them on a hard fought game. I console the pitcher, who laughs it off and thanks me for still writing his college letter of recommendation.

After the party is over, I approach our head of school. "How about that raise?"

"Contracts were already signed for this year." Louisa shrugs, patting me on the back. "But I'll gladly buy you lunch."

"Deal."

I eat with some of my closest work friends, including Louisa, and we enjoy the gorgeous weather and the somewhat decent bratwurst and potato salad.

"Seems like our two student teachers are doing well," Louisa comments.

I pause mid-bite, hoping someone else will respond.

"I can vouch for Tim in chemistry. He's been effective so far," our science department chair says.

"Piper's outstanding," the dean of student replies. "The kids adore her, though a few said she gives too much homework."

The science department chair rolls her eyes. "That's what they all say."

"Alex, have you interacted with either of them much?"

I swallow my potato salad. "Yeah. They're great."

"Good." The head of school looks at me funny. "We'll talk more formally about them at our check-in next week."

I nod. "Sounds good."

I don't know why I get so worried and self-conscious when Piper's name comes up. Nothing happened after our first meeting in the early summer, and nothing is happening now. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive to perceptions because I _am_ attracted to her, and I don't want anyone to pick up on that. She's a good teacher, and I can acknowledge that…I _should_ acknowledge it.

"Relay race is starting in 10 minutes," the PE teacher says as he approaches our table. "Alex are you ready to be the faculty ringer again?"

"Hardly," I chuckle. "That kick was sheer luck…and it was a one-time thing, so don't assume I'm going to play again next year."

"We'll whip her into shape," the dean of students replies.

I take my plate to the garbage. "I guess I better find out what this relay race is all about."

They all wish me luck, and I walk to the opposite side of the event space to see six students and five faculty members stretching and talking. I have never participated in nor witnessed the relay race before today, so I don't know what it entails. The PE teacher told me it involved _minimal movement_ , so I'm counting on that to be true—it's been a very long time since I've run other than in the rain the last time I had dinner with Nicky.

"Alright everyone, attention please," the PE teacher begins with a clap. "Thank you all for agreeing to participate in this year's relay race. I'll call out the two-person teams now, and then the student council will demonstrate how each leg of the race works."

I'm standing next to an English teacher and the physics teacher, and right next to him is Piper, followed by a long line of students. The PE teacher calls the pairs out, and the last faculty pair is none other than _Ms. Vause_ and _Ms. Chapman_. Go fucking figure.

Piper leans close to my ear, breath tickling it and sending a rush throughout my body. "We'll kick their asses."

From what I've gathered in the last couple of months, Piper is competitive. That was proven today in the kickball game and now as she prepares to run the race with me.

She stands to my left, hands in her back pockets, looking even more like a tomboy than when she was on the kickball field, and listens closely to the instructions for each leg of the race. I'm torn between watching her and watching the student council demonstrate each segment. I quickly surmise that there will be considerable touching during the race, which concerns yet excites me in a way that it definitely shouldn't.

Piper nudges me with her shoulder. "You ready?"

"No, but I don't think that matters right about now," I sigh. "Should I remove my glasses?"

"On your marks, get set, go!" The PE teacher lowers his flag, and we're off.

The first leg is the wheel barrow race. Piper's hands are on the ground, and I'm holding her ankles. I push her forward as fast as she can "walk" until we reach the end line. The further we go, the more her shirt inches up and I can see half her back. I watch the muscles work as she skitters across the grass. All six teams are almost even.

The second race involves me putting the end of a plastic spoon in my mouth and a Cheerio in the dip of the spoon. I have to walk 20 feet to where Piper is waiting with a plastic spoon in her mouth just like mine and transfer the Cheerio to her spoon without using our hands. If we drop the Cheerio, I have to go back to the starting point. I run evenly with the other participants, and when I get to Piper, I put my hands on her hips and tilt my head to the right. She bends her knees, placing her hands on my upper arms and slanting her head to the left. I successfully transfer the Cheerio, and we've mastered that challenge. Four of the other teams are still with us, and two dropped the Cheerio and have to try again.

The third event is the three-legged race. A student ties our ankles together with a bandana, and I put an arm around Piper's shoulders while hers wraps around my waist. We walk briskly towards the end point, not missing a beat, stride for stride with each other. We're ahead of the pack after this race, but the debate club president and the star soccer player are hot on our tail.

The final stretch involves popping two balloons between our bodies without using our hands, feet or any sharp objects that we might have in our pockets. Piper and I hold each other closely, dropping a balloon between our stomachs and thrusting against each other to try to pop it.

"I usually buy a girl dinner before getting this close," I say.

She thrusts forward. "Is that an invitation?"

"The operative word is _before_."

"No breakfast afterwards?"

"That depends." We pop one balloon and place another one between us.

"On what?" Piper asks.

I lock my arms behind her back. "On how good it was."

The second balloon pops, and two students rush over to raise each of our hands, declaring us the winners. I'm far more elated than I should be, but it's because of my proximity to Piper more than winning some silly relay race. Through the cheers of the crowd, Piper and I hug, and for a moment, I think about kissing her, but I quickly come to my senses. _What in the fuck am I thinking_? I pull away and opt for a high five.

My body reacts a certain way when I'm close to her, and although it's involuntary, it borders on inappropriate. She looks at me, I stare at her. She touches me, I want to touch her more intimately. She hugs me, I want to kiss her. It's a cycle I'm determined to break, but for now, I just want to celebrate: _we won_.

* * *

Nothing comes of our flirtations at Fall Fest, not that I expected it to. I think about texting Piper, apologizing for my comments during the relay race, but I decide against it. Acknowledging the inappropriate nature of our brief conversation would give it life, and I'd rather just put it to bed. _Take her to bed_. I try to force all thoughts of Piper and beds out of my mind and concentrate on the week ahead.

Other than the mornings when Piper greets me from the hallway when she arrives at school, we don't interact that following week. That is, until my Outlook calendar alerts me to a curriculum development meeting with her an hour before it occurs on Thursday afternoon.

Peggy was _so close_ to getting it right. "When did you sneak this meeting with Piper onto my calendar?" I call from my desk.

"It's been planned for a few days; I just forgot to tell you I put it on there. I thought that's what the Outlook reminder was for."

I roll my eyes. "There are two steps to this. First, you either ask me if I can meet with her, and then schedule it, or you schedule it and then tell me about it. Second, you click the button in Outlook that reminds me of the meeting an hour in advance."

"Like I've said before, those are a lot of steps." She rolls her chair back. "Anything else before I leave?"

I avoid exhaling the frustrated sigh that's begging to come out. "No, thank you."

* * *

An hour later, Piper stands in the doorway with a box of Mimmo's. "I come bearing pizza."

I suck in a deep breath through my nose. "I can smell it from here."

She sets the box on a side table, followed by her messenger bag. "You changed clothes."

"You looked so comfortable last time." I move from behind my desk to one of the guest chairs. "Thought I'd give it a try."

She has on a similar outfit to the one she wore the last time we met, only this time, her top is a wide-necked sweatshirt and her collarbone peeks out, teasing me.

"What kind of pizza is it?" I peek inside the box to see for myself.

She pulls out her laptop and a legal pad. "Bacon and artichoke—it was the special today."

"Yum."

Piper sits next to me. "I was thinking about writing an outline of what I'd like to discuss so we stay a little more on task this time."

"Great."

She hands me a handwritten outline. "By _thinking about_ you actually meant doing."

Piper shrugs. "If you would've disagreed, I wouldn't have given it to you."

I shake my head and smile as I glance at her topics of choice. "Are these in the order in which you want to discuss them?"

"Pretty much." She takes a sip of water. "But if you think there's a more efficient way to proceed, I'm open."

We begin by talking about the value of a standardized curriculum, spending less time on Advanced Placement and more time on International Baccalaureate. I try to remain neutral as we discuss the merits of both programs, allowing Piper to come up with the conclusion I figured she would: standardized curriculum lacks innovation and gets stale quickly.

An hour later, I'm hungry.

"If I don't eat a piece of that pizza I might die." I stretch. "The smell has been driving me crazy since you got here."

She leans over, grabbing the pizza box and placing it between us. "You've shown great restraint."

 _You have no idea._

I take a now cold slice. "What about you?"

She pauses, then looks me in the eye. "I've shown great restraint as well."

The way she's staring at me makes it crystal clear that she's not referring to the pizza. We're a step away from treacherous territory, so I need to change the subject fast.

"I remember the first time I ate Mimmo's." I take another bite. "I was on a date, and the woman I was with gobbled down six or seven slices without pausing to even sip her beer."

She giggles.

"She kept talking about her car that was in the shop even though her mouth was full, and little bits of pepperoni kept flying out."

"She sounds super hot," Piper says through laughter.

"The opposite of hot." I take a drink of water. "That date was one and done."

She finishes her first slice. "I've got a better story, or worse, depending on how you look at it."

"Oh, that wasn't my worst date," I offer. "Just my first time at Mimmo's."

"Ah." She takes a bite and swallows before continuing. "My sophomore year at Smith, I dated mostly guys."

I raise my eyebrows, though I'm not really surprised to hear Piper is (or was) bisexual.

"I went out with this total hippie from Hampshire, and he cried at the drop of a hat."

"He cried?"

She nods. "I think his roommate's childhood pet had just died—a cat this guy had never met—and he bawled like a baby. Then he told me about his goldfish that died when he was like seven or eight years old, and he cried. I ended the date about an hour into it when it was clear the man had emotional issues."

"Sounds unstable."

"He was." She takes a bite of the second slice.

We go round and round, telling stories about bad dates, and by the time we're done, we've eaten the entire pizza. It's true that I would never talk about bad dates with any other teacher at Mounthaven, but Piper's different. I enjoy the way she tells stories—she's animated and descriptive and precise. She has an ease about her that I appreciate. While nothing we've discussed is intimate or flirtatious, I confirm there's a connection between us that I've felt since the first time we met.

Eventually, we return to our curriculum discussion that runs until just after 8 p.m.

Piper raises her hands above her head and tilts to the side. "My back is starting to hurt."

I roll my neck and hear the tendons pop. "These aren't the most comfortable chairs for long periods of sitting."

She places her laptop in her bag. "Let's meet somewhere more comfortable next time."

I worry about meeting somewhere 'more comfortable' but Piper has shown no signs of inappropriate behavior tonight. She made the one comment about _great restraint_ , but if she's restraining from flirting with me, she's doing a good job.

So I make a bold suggestion. "We could meet at my house."

Piper pauses mid-air and blinks at me. "Ok."

"Say, next Saturday around 4?"

"Yeah, I can make that work."

I might be making a colossal mistake, but I'm prepared to take a leap of faith that we can keep our hands to ourselves and have a professional discussion somewhere other than at school. I don't examine why I didn't recommend that we meet at a coffee shop or another public place. Wouldn't that be a better choice?

"Thanks for such a good discussion," Piper says, strapping her bag over a shoulder.

"You're welcome. See you tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Oh, _fuck_. I posted the wrong chapter! Good on all of you who posted reviews about this error. I hope this doesn't spoil the fun! I've taken down the chapter five that I mis-posted and am replacing it with this. For those of you who read the next chapter, consider it a double update day! My apologies.

* * *

Although department chairs are responsible for class observations of their student teachers, as head of upper school, I'm required to observe _all_ teachers at least twice per semester. Last week, I observed the Chemistry student teacher, and this week, I'm observing the History one.

I enter the classroom, and Piper is reviewing something with two students in the back of the room, so I stand to the side, not announcing my presence.

After a minute or so, she spins around, seemingly surprised to see me. "Hi. Do you need something?"

I try to conceal a smile. "I'm observing today."

"Oh. That's not something you should tell me in advance?" She runs her hands down her long, fitted skirt.

"If you knew in advance, you might alter your lesson plans." I adjust my glasses. "The point of my observation is to watch you teach on any given day—to see you in your element."

She flashes a worried smile. "Ok."

I didn't expect her to be anxious. Every time I've been in Piper's presence, she seems poised and confident.

"Let's take our seats." She waits for the 17 students to settle down. "We have Ms. Vause in our room today." She holds an arm out, and I wave. "There's a seat in the back if you'd like it."

I sit in the only unoccupied desk and open my notebook, prepared to jot down my comments about Piper's teaching style.

"Would anyone like to tell Ms. Vause what we're studying this week?"

Two students raise their hands, and Piper calls on the girl.

"We're studying the Roman Empire from its height of power to the ultimate fall," Charlotte says. "Yesterday, we covered the crisis of the third century, including plagues, civil wars, and barbarian invasions."

"Thank you, Charlotte." Piper walks to the opposite side of the room and calls on the other student who had his hand up. "Marshall, would you tell Ms. Vause about your project?"

He sits up straighter in his desk. "Hakim and I are doing a project on the Roman Empire versus the Galactic Empire in the _Star Wars_ movies."

I chuckle. "Oh really?"

"You'd be surprised at how similar they are," he adds. "In fact, if it's ok with Ms. Chapman, you can come back next week to check out our presentation."

"I'd like that."

"Thank you, Marshall." Piper walks to the white board and writes the topic of the day. "Today we're talking about reunification and political division in the Roman Empire. Does anyone remember how many men were in Diocletian's army?"

A student shouts out, "Almost half a million."

"Good," she says. "With the limited communications of the time, both the European and the Eastern frontiers needed the attention of their own supreme commanders. Diocletian tried to solve this problem by re-establishing an adoptive succession with a senior (Augustus) and junior (Caesar) emperor in each half of the Empire, but this system of tetrarchy broke down within one generation." She walks up one aisle, stopping about halfway and looking at the boy to her left. "What is a tetrarchy, David?"

He glances at her. "I don't know."

"Anyone?" She spins around, calling on someone in the second row.

"It's when power is divided among four individuals," a girl in the front answers.

"Exactly. If anyone uses that word nowadays, they're referring to the system instituted by Diocletian in 293, marking the end of the Crisis of the Third Century."

The lesson goes on like this for about 45 minutes, and Piper rarely talks for more than five minutes at a time, allowing the students to chime in. She calls on everyone in the room at least once, giving some students multiple opportunities to contribute if they didn't know an earlier answer. Piper is, I discover, a _very_ gifted teacher. The entire class is engaged, and when she stops to tell a story of historical importance, the students appear to be captivated by how expressive she is. _I'm_ captivated by how expressive she is. Well, that and her body.

"No homework tonight, but I want you to work on your projects that are due next week." She half-sits on the desk in the front of the room. "I'll give you 30 minutes to rehearse on Monday, and then presentations will begin on Tuesday. Any questions?"

A student raises her hand. "How will I know when I have to present?"

Piper shrugs. "Luck of the draw. Be prepared every day."

The students put their items in their bags or backpacks and filter out of the room. As they leave, a few of them thank Piper for the lesson today.

"Good class." I move to the front of the room. "The students were engaged, and you challenged the ones who didn't seem prepared."

"Thank you." She erases the board. "They're an easy group."

"Don't sell yourself short." I close my notebook and stand in the doorway. "I noticed a few students participate who've given other teachers considerable trouble."

"I thought I wanted to be an English teacher at first." She gathers her things and meets me in the doorway. "But history is all about story-telling. I figure if I know how to tell a story well, students will pay attention if nothing else. Even as children, we're drawn to books our parents or grandparents read to us. I see my role something like that rather than as some by-the-books history teacher."

I smile. "But without the grandma part?"

"Yeah." She returns the smile. "Without the grandma part."

* * *

Saturday morning, I head to the grocery store to buy staples as well as something for Piper and me to munch on while we discuss curriculum. I've put way too much thought into this, and now I'm afraid I'm overthinking it. We're not on a date—I'm helping her formulate opinions and come up with conclusions about curriculum. There's nothing romantic about it. So why am I so fucking hung up on making sure everything is just right?

There are at least five times throughout the day when I consider canceling our meeting. Am I setting myself up for disaster? What if she gets too close and I reach out to touch her without thinking about it? If I don't have that kind of self-control, I need to see a doctor. _I can do this_.

Just before 4 o'clock, I tidy up my house, deciding against lighting candles and in favor of opening a couple windows to let the cool breeze waft in. It's been drizzling the better part of the day, but the way the wind is blowing allows me to open the East facing windows without the chance of rain sneaking inside. I turn on some jazz music ever so faintly and put a bottle of Merlot on the kitchen counter in case the evening takes us there.

I hear a tap on the door.

"Hi," Piper greets me.

"You're soaked," I announce.

She props her bicycle against a column on the porch. "I missed the bus." She wipes rain off her face with her sleeve.

I step aside, allowing her come in. "I'll get you something to change into."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's no trouble at all." I head upstairs.

"Just a shirt is fine. My jeans aren't that wet," she calls.

I'm glad I had the built-in excuse to run upstairs, because my mouth would hang open far too long if I stared at a wet Piper. The hair was enough to drive me wild, and I can't imagine what my expression would be if she shed her jacket and her nipples were erect against her shirt.

"You have a beautiful house."

"Thanks," I call from my bedroom. "If the weather was nicer, I'd suggest we sit in the backyard."

"I'll take a raincheck."

My heart does a somersault at the idea of Piper coming to my house again under much different circumstances.

I head back downstairs. "Here's a shirt and a towel if you want to dry your hair."

Piper rubs her head with the towel, and when she removes it, her hair is a complete mess. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, sure." I open the door to the half-bath.

"I might have to steal this shirt," she says as she closes the door.

I always get compliments on my _The Future is Female_ sweatshirt. "I'll track you down if you do."

She spends about five minutes in the bathroom, and I'm left wondering what to do. Talk to her through the closed door? Turn the music louder? Open a few folders on the coffee table? I consider bringing out some carrot and celery sticks with Ranch dressing, but I don't want her to feel _too_ comfortable. After all, Piper isn't a friend or a date—she's a teacher at my school. Reminding myself of that every so often is essential.

"How was your day?" she calls from the bathroom.

"Fine. Went grocery shopping, worked a little and cleaned my house—nothing too exciting," I reply, sitting on the edge of the sofa. "What about you?"

"Worked in the writing lab at Smith this morning, took a yoga class, and then met with my study group." She comes out of the bathroom, hair still damp but less of a tangled mess. "Thanks for this."

I stand, grabbing the towel and tossing it on the hutch behind the sofa. "Are you taking a class this semester?"

She nods. "Spanish. It's my only one."

"But you teach all day."

Piper gets her laptop out of her bag, and then sits on the sofa. "It's a Tuesday evening class."

"Oh." I sit on the couch as far away as possible, dragging my laptop across the coffee table. "Don't tell me you're majoring in Spanish, too?"

"Minoring," she offers with a grin. "Spanish _and_ English, actually."

"Aren't you just the quintessential Renaissance woman?"

She lets out a low laugh. "The very definition."

We begin our discussion with Humanistic curriculum development, and it turns out, Piper is a big fan of this approach. "The process of policy dialogue to define educational goals has to be participatory and inclusive," she states. "The content should be guided by the principles of social and economic justice, equality, and environmental responsibility that constitute the pillars of sustainable development."

I lean over. "Are you reading from an online dictionary?"

She blinks at me. "No."

When I was her age, there was no way I was so eloquent and precise. In fact, when I was Piper's age, I had no idea that I would have a desire to change curriculum—I knew I wanted to teach, but it went no further than that.

I jot a phrase down on my notepad. "What do you mean by sustainable development?"

"A curriculum that meet the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations." She shrugs. "Sustainable."

"Go on."

She continues her description of Humanistic curriculum, showing me a couple of articles online. I had heard of this curricular approach, but I have never studied it.

"Am I stuck at the 30,000 foot level?" she asks. "Do I need to wrangle my thoughts down to earth?"

I walk into the kitchen. "You're thinking more of a comprehensive overview of curriculum, but eventually, you'll need to get down to shape and design."

"I'm not there yet." She follows me. "There's still so much I need to learn about the different types of curriculum, you know?"

I open the Merlot without second guessing myself. "You're a student. It's not surprising you're focused on the conceptual stuff rather than the practical."

"When does the other shoe drop?" Piper pulls the two wine glasses closer, making it easier for me to pour. "When do I get out of my head?"

"Probably when you get a full-time job that requires your head to be in the classroom more than in the clouds." I immediately regret my response.

"Is that what you think—that my head is in the clouds?"

"That's not what I meant." I pour wine in each glass. "I just meant in the conceptual context. It's like reading the manual about how to drive a car without having driven one. You can learn the steps of how to do it, but until you put the key in the ignition, you won't know exactly what to do."

"True." She drags a glass along the granite countertop. "I guess it's time for wine."

"I didn't even ask." I pull the other glass towards me. "Did you want some?"

"Yes, please." She smiles. "I should've brought some snacks."

"I got it." I open the refrigerator and take out the crudité and dressing. "Hope you like vegetables and Ranch."

"I do." She follows me back into the living room, taking both glasses of wine. "Glad to see that you cut the carrots yourself. I hate those baby carrots."

"They must be genetically modified," I add. "There's no possible way carrots look like that when they're pulled from the ground."

She sets both glasses on the coffee table. "Exactly."

We stare at each other for a moment, and I wonder if she feels the Sympatico I've felt every time I'm with her.

"We should get back to our discussion," I say, looking anywhere but at Piper.

She sips her wine. "Can we talk about differentiated learning?"

"Is there anything you don't already know about the subject?" I pop a carrot into my mouth.

"I'm sure there is," she states suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

"I know you presented a paper about it at the Massachusetts Educational Impact conference last year."

"I remember including the conference on my resume, but I didn't reference the topic of my paper." She bends forward and locks eyes with me. "I know that because I regretted _not_ including it after I'd already submitted my resume."

There's no getting out of this one; I refuse to lie.

"I Googled you," I admit, burying my face in my wine glass. "Just like I Google all the new teachers at Mounthaven."

"Oh really?" She tucks her legs under her and sits back, arm splayed across the back of the sofa. It's a move of confidence. "Tell me, then, what is Tim Hightower's Capstone project?"

"Chemistry," I try.

"Could you be a little more specific?" She can probably sense I'm treading water.

I run my hands over my thighs in what I hope she doesn't recognize as a nervous gesture. "Organic chemistry?"

"It's on corrosion and conductivity." She removes her arm from across the back of the sofa. "You didn't Google Tim Hightower."

Again, any response I provide would incriminate me, so I remain silent, shoving my glasses to the top of my head.

Piper stares at me, presumably waiting for more of an explanation, and when none is forthcoming, she says, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to know more about me."

I clench my jaw, knowing I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"I Googled you, too," she offers. "And I don't apologize for that, though I do think it's ridiculous that I can't just ask you to tell me more about yourself."

I raise my head sharply, eyes locking with hers.

"I get that we're in an awkward position, Alex, but that doesn't mean we have to disguise wanting to know more about each other with these curriculum development meetings." She pauses, turning more towards me. "I love discussing educational stuff with you, and I don't want to end our professional relationship, but can we admit we use some of our time to get to know each other better?"

I'm impressed with how mature and brave she is. I didn't have the guts to call out these curriculum meetings as being partly self-serving to spend private time with her. It's my turn to be raw and honest.

"Yes, I want to know more about you," I admit. "But it has to stop there."

She looks curiously at me.

"It can't go beyond conversational." I hope she understands what I'm getting at.

"We can't get to know each other _physically_ ," she replies with raised brows. "Is that what you mean?"

It would be far more revealing and helpful if she said that with sadness or nonchalance, so I could see where she stands on the physicality of our relationship.

Nevertheless, I respond, "Right."

"Right." Piper stands abruptly, and I wonder if she feels the need to get away from me. "Mind if I get more wine?"

"Sure."

I walk behind her and silently refill our glasses. I don't know where to go from here, and I hope Piper takes the lead. This is not my normal mode of operation—I'm always in charge and have no problem with confrontation. She throws me off my game.

"Everything we've talked about has come naturally," she finally says. "I don't want that to change."

"Neither do I." I take a sip.

"Good." She walks back into the living room, and I follow. "So let's allow our conversation flow the way it has from the start."

I nod. "Ok."

"Are you a big fan of wine?"

"I am." I set the bottle on the coffee table, hands shaking a bit. "I don't have a refined palate or anything. I can drink a $10 bottle and still get pleasure out of it."

"Me, too." She takes another sip. "I like red more than white, but that changes depending on the season."

"I got really into rosés this summer." I settle more comfortably into my spot on the sofa, glad that our conversation is once again flowing organically. "But sometimes I just want a cold beer."

"I haven't really gotten into _good_ beers yet," Piper states. "In college, it's the rot-gut stuff that costs $10 a case."

I dip a carrot stick in the Ranch dressing. "I remember those days and am glad they're over."

"When did you graduate from college?"

"You're essentially asking how old I am," I chuckle.

She grins. "I think I've pieced it together: 35?"

I nod. "I assume you're 21."

"I turned 21 on June 7—a day before you and I met at Jam Fest." She eats a piece of celery.

I prop my elbow on the back of the sofa, holding the side of my head in my hand. "Ugh, I'm old."

She shrugs. "I'm drawn to older women."

I let out a troubled sigh. "Don't say things like that, Piper."

"If there was any doubt that I feel something for you, let it be known that I do." She leans back. "I'll leave it at that."

I run a hand through my hair and walk towards the front door. It feels claustrophobic in here. I open it and stand in the threshold, watching the rain fall and breathing in fresh air.

I hear her stand, but my back is to her, so I can't confirm it. "I should leave."

I want to ask her to stay, but we're moving further and further down an unrecoverable path, and she simply _can't_ stay here.

"Maybe we need to let some time go by before seeing each other again," I say. "We'll both have to go to school, but beyond that, let's stop meeting privately for a while."

Piper stands next to me, but I don't look at her. "If that's how you feel…"

"It is," I affirm, tightening my jaw.

"It's just," she begins, shaking her head slowly. "The way you look at me…"

This time, I _do_ look at her. "I didn't think you noticed."

"Are you kidding?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "I don't have to turn around to feel your eyes on me—I just _feel_ it." She picks up my hand but doesn't actually hold it; it's just lying on her palm. It's an intentional act—like if she squeezed my hand or entwined our fingers, there would be a connection, but if our hands just hover, palm to palm, there's no union. "I'm afraid if we catch each other's eye at school people will pick up on it."

I glance at our hands. "We can't have that."

"No, we can't." She drops my hand, and I have this sense of _falling_. "I wish things were different."

"Me, too." I step back so she can get through the doorway. "You're an excellent teacher, and I don't want to fuck with your future by acting on feelings."

She seems a little surprised at my statement, and I wonder if voicing that _I have feelings_ is divulging too much.

"Thanks for coming over. Sorry it's ending this way." I have to shut this down. "Have a good rest of your weekend."

"You, too." She waits a beat, like if something were to happen, now is the time. When it doesn't, she walks over to her bicycle, dragging it down the three steps from my porch, and doesn't look back before riding away in the rain.

I go back inside, sighing mightily. I find the shirt she originally wore over here hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and I bring it to my face, smelling Piper. I love the scent of her. I hang it back up and return to the living room, emptying the bottle of wine into my glass and taking a long swig. Might as well dull the pain for one night. I plop back onto the sofa, noticing Piper forgot her legal pad. I pick it up, reading some of her scribbled notes and tracing the ink with my finger.

There's no question that if Piper wasn't affiliated with my school, I'd want to date her, age difference and all. She's smart, considerate, outspoken and brave—all the things I want in a partner. She's eager to learn and willing to share; she's perceptive; she's conscientious; she's not afraid to admit when she's wrong or doesn't know the answer. I'm baffled by how mature she is.

As I catalogue the many attributes of Piper Chapman, I hear something fall on the porch and wonder if the wind has picked up, knocking a pumpkin off the banister. When I hear someone jiggling the doorknob, I quickly get to my feet. I'm paralyzed when I see her burst through the door.

"What are you doing?"

She takes a few long strides, hair and clothing soaking wet, until she's directly in front of me. She cradles my face in her hands and presses her mouth to mine, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize what's happening: Piper is kissing me. I can't fight this—I won't. I wrap my arms around her body, feeling her damp t-shirt against my chest and wet head against my hand. She tilts her head, and I slip my tongue inside her mouth. Her body is cold, but her mouth is warm, and I want to bury myself inside her.

She finally pulls back, hands still on my cheeks. "We're being ridiculous."

"God, I want this." I rest my forehead against hers and feel my heart pumping rapidly. " _Very_ badly, but we can't. Our jobs are at stake."

"Why does anyone have to know?"

I release her, and despite her body being cold and wet, she was _warm_ and now I'm the one shivering. "You've already noticed the way I look at you! Don't you think others will, too? Especially if we take things further?"

"You couldn't keep a professional demeanor when it comes to me?"

I put my hands on my hips and shrug. "I don't know."

"Alex," comes out as both a question and a plea—like if I don't acquiesce now, I'm giving up our shot at being together.

It feels like my heart is wrapped in a rubber band and someone is tugging it down. "It has to be this way for now."

Piper steps closer, and I can smell the intoxicating combination of rain and powder. "What if it was just one night?"

"Do you really believe we could do that?" I let out a skeptical laugh. "We have too much of a connection—that's never going to happen."

She bows her head, closes her eyes and puts her thumb and index finger on her eyelids. I sense she's about to give up. I want to pull her into a deep hug, but touching Piper right now would only add fuel to the fire.

She looks at me with fatigued eyes. "I've made a fool of myself."

"No, you haven't." I punctuate the statement with my eyebrows. "The way you busted in here like that was brave and honest. I wish I had half the conviction you do."

She nods, but I don't know if she believes me.

"Who knows? Maybe after the school year is over we'll give it a shot." I brush a strand of wet hair off her forehead. "I'm open to that if you are."

"I am," she says softly, letting out a long breath. "This time, I'm really going to leave."

"You sure?" _God, I want her to stay_ , but that would be sending major mixed messages.

"Yeah."

I hug her, praying it doesn't turn into another makeout fest for both of our sakes.

Piper releases me and heads out the door that's still wide open. As she walks into the darkness, I close the door, making certain it's locked this time.


	6. Chapter 6

The following week, I feel sick—my head hurts as much as my stomach, and I'm lethargic. I took some cold medicine, but that's not working. I drink more green tea than usual, but it doesn't help. I've even gotten at least eight hours of sleep each night, but nothing has made me feel better. Subconsciously, I know what it is, but I was hoping traditional remedies would work and I could chalk this illness up to the common cold.

I see Piper daily in the hallway, through a classroom door or in the school cafeteria. She hasn't said good morning this week, which is no surprise. She doesn't make eye contact, but now I know from our conversation last week that she notices when I'm looking at her. I try to be more discreet, though I don't know how successful I am. The one unavoidable time when I know we'll be in the same room is for the student presentation about the Roman Empire versus the Galactic Empire I promised her students I'd attend.

Not surprisingly, it's the day Piper looks the best. It's the first time I've seen her with wavy hair, and the way it frames her face makes her even that much more stunning. She has on a cashmere sweater and a bright yellow skirt with a waffle pattern—it's something I'd expect to see in _Vogue for Teachers_ if such a publication existed. Somehow she manages to look sophisticated yet approachable.

"Hi." I step into the room five minutes after class has started. "I'm excited to see Marshall and Hakim's presentation," I say to no one in particular.

The boys, who are setting up the projector, high-five each other. Piper lifts her head from the back of the room and gives me an obligatory nod but doesn't say anything.

"Mind if I take this seat?" I ask the boys.

"That's my desk, and I'm standing up here, so it's free," Hakim says.

"Alright, boys, are you ready?" Piper asks, hands on her hips like she's agitated. Unless someone else pissed her off, I think my mere presence has done the trick. "You have 30 minutes for your presentation. I'll hold up my hand at the five minute mark. Good luck."

They each give a short introduction about why they chose their specific project, and then Marshall dives in. "Both Julius Caesar and Senator Palatine were in their positions much longer than they were supposed to be. They were given extended rule and power for the safety of the Republic. However, they were both seized with either ambition or vanity and continued to pursue more power and a higher title. Both Palpatine and Julius Caesar were betrayed by someone they trusted and were killed: Brutus and Darth Vader."

He turns to Hakim, who takes over. "Another similarity between the Roman Empire and the _Star Wars_ movies is the way that the two became Empires. In both civilizations there was a series of wars fueled by the Republic's desire to conquer and expand. In the history of Ancient Rome, these wars were primarily the Punic Wars with Carthage. In _Star Wars_ , there were different wars: The Old Sith Wars, the New Sith Wars, and The Clone Wars."

"The _Star Wars_ franchise has two distinct scenes that resonate with Ancient Rome: The Circus Maximus and the Colosseum. This first scene shows the pod racing clip from Episode I. We're going to watch a clip now," Marshall says.

I am thoroughly impressed with their presentation, and I can't say that I've seen anything remotely like it in all my years in education. I glance at Piper, who observes them for a moment, and then jots down some notes. When she writes, her head tilts slightly to the left, and my eyes zero in on her neck. The muscle that leads from her shoulder to her neck juts out slightly, and I find myself wanting to bathe it with my tongue. She seems absorbed on the task at hand and remains straight-faced. Now, instead of being aggravated that I'm in the room, it's like I'm not even there.

Towards the end of the presentation, Piper moves to the front of the room with grace and authority, and I wonder how she's able to simultaneously project both qualities. "That was fantastic," she begins. "Let's give them a round of applause." She smiles at the boys, and I wish her smile was directed at me. "We have about ten minutes for questions."

A couple of students ask questions that Marshall and Hakim answer without issue. There's one moment when I catch her looking at me, and I swear I see sorrow in her eyes. When I catch her eye, she quickly turns away.

"You did a wonderful job," she tells the boys. "Well researched and very well presented. You've set a new standard." Piper looks at me. "Anything you'd like to add, Ms. Vause?"

"I can't believe what I just saw," I reply. "I'm completely blown away."

"Thanks," they say in unison.

"Did you work on your presentation style at home or in class?"

"Ms. Chapman demonstrated how presentations should look, and she gave us time in class to practice," Hakim says.

"Yeah, and she made us watch videos about co-presenting," Marshall adds.

"Do you all feel prepared to go up there?" I ask the class.

Everyone nods.

"Well, Ms. Chapman, keep up the good work." I stand and run a hand down my now wrinkled skirt. "Terrific job, really. If it were up to me, I'd give you both As."

Piper watches my hand intently, and then walks to the opposite side of the room like she has to be as far away from me as possible. "Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome." I leave the room astonished by what she has taught her class, turned on by the way she carries herself, and saddened by the fact I can't be with her.

* * *

On Saturday night, I decide to get a drink with Nicky and fill her in on life with(out) Piper. I choose a hole in the wall pub in the opposite direction of Smith so as to avoid any possibility of running into her. I've been to the Bridge Street Bar a couple of times, and it has never drawn a crowd other than a few blue collar workers, but tonight, it's packed at six o'clock.

"You sure know how to pick 'em." Nicky slaps me on the back. "A bar across the street from a cemetery on the day before Halloween?"

"I only realized the congruence of events when I walked inside," I sigh. "It was too late to change locations, so here we are."

"You want to go somewhere else?"

"No, this is fine."

"I'm going to a Halloween party in Hatfield around nine if you want to join me." She flags down the bartender. "Should be some sexy lesbians there."

"No, thanks."

"Why so glum, Vause? Is blondie giving you blue balls?"

I give her the stink eye as the bartender takes our drink order. I fill Nicky in on everything that has transpired over the past couple of weeks, including the kiss.

"You really turned down the possibility of sex because of your moral high ground?"

I take sip of whiskey. "I'm sure sex with her would be amazing, but it wouldn't stop there. I know it."

"You actually want a relationship with Piper?" She peels a peanut, then pops it into her mouth, tossing the shell on the ground to join the thousands of others.

I look up to see how badly Nicky is judging me—not that it matters. "I think I do."

"And that can't happen because you're her boss?" she confirms.

"Correct." I swirl the brown liquid in my glass.

Nicky lifts her shoulders. "Alright, well you're just going to have to wait until her job at Mounthaven is over."

I roll my eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"I don't know what else you want me to say," she begins. "I'm not going to tell you to put aside your work relationship and fuck her senseless, because I know you won't do that. I'm not going to tell you to quit your job, because that's just ridiculous. What can I say to make things better?"

"I want you to sympathize with me! Tell me she's amazing and gorgeous and that I should wait for her," I say in one frustrated breath. "I'm not looking for advice; I want your support."

"You have my support!" She opens her arms. "If you think she's worth it, wait for her. It's already the end of October. You only have…" she counts on her fingers. "Seven months to go."

"Ugh." I put my head in my hands. "I honestly don't know if I can make it that long."

"Booze is your friend." Nicky lifts her glass, shaking the ice. "Other than finding a side piece, I don't know what to tell you."

"I don't want a side piece." I drain the last of the whiskey. "I want Piper."

"Therein lies your problem." She pats my back.

I sit in silent contemplation for the next couple of minutes while Nicky orders another round. The thought of waiting seven months to be with Piper is ridiculous. I know myself: I don't have that kind of willpower.

Nicky brushes her shoulder against mine. "I, uh, hate to tell you this, but I think your Kryptonite just walked in."

I lash my head around and can't believe my eyes _. Of all the fucking places_ she'd be, this wasn't one of them. "This can't be happening." I turn back towards the bar and blink rapidly, hoping it's just a mirage.

"You want to get out of here?" Nicky glances from left to right. "Maybe there's an exit back here and we can slip out before she sees you."

"I don't want to be so obvious. Maybe we'll blend in with the crowd and she won't notice me. Let's give it a few minutes." I start on the second glass of whiskey.

"Not sure if you got a good look at her costume, but uh…" She licks her lips. "On second thought, it's probably best if you don't look."

Of course, I turn to see what Nicky's referring to, and I have to close my mouth when I take it in. Piper is wearing a black leotard with silver painted skeleton bones on the front and clipped to the bottom are black thigh-highs with the same skeleton pattern. The outfit leaves nothing to the imagination; my eyes are drawn to her ass and toned thighs.

Nicky swigs her drink. "I warned you not to look."

"I need to get out of here." When I stand, the heel of my boot catches the bottom rung of the barstool, and I go crashing to the ground.

All eyes are on me. "Fuck!" I quickly get to my feet and hold up my hands. "I'm ok."

There must be a hundred eyes in the place, but when I look up, mine latch on to Piper's.

She rushes over. "Are you ok?"

I dust off my knees that are now covered with peanut shells. "Other than making an ass of myself, I'm fine."

"Are you drunk?"

"No, my boot got caught on this fucking barstool." I shove the stool in frustration.

She touches my elbow. "Do you want to get some air?"

Silence hangs between us until Nicky breaks it. "Why don't you do that, Vause? I'm just gonna finish my drink."

Piper's hand rolls down my arm until she's holding my wrist and tugging me out the front door. She pulls me around the corner before releasing me.

"You're going to have to put something on to cover that costume." I avert my eyes.

"I already feel enough like an idiot standing here dressed like this when you're in regular clothes. Could you not rub it in?" She plants her hands on her hips. "If you really want me to go back inside to get my coat, I will."

I shake my head as more of a _get your head out of your ass_ move than a _no_ to her. She must take it as a no though because she doesn't return to the bar.

"What happened in there?"

"I told you." I still don't look her way. "My boot got caught as I was trying to leave."

"You don't have to leave because of me."

"I can hardly be in the same room with you on a _normal_ day!" Finally, I glance her way. "Now, with you dressed like that…" I trail off. "How can you go from hot teacher to hot tomboy to hot fucking skeleton?"

"I don't mean to be hot in any of those scenarios." She looks down at her costume. "Well, except this one. But I didn't expect to run into you tonight."

She juts out one leg and _my god_ I want run my palms down her body, feeling every curve. I want to kiss the spot on her neck where a vein is pulsing. I want to tangle my hands in her wavy blonde hair. I want to wiggle a finger through the side of the leotard and make her cum.

"I want to touch you, Piper. And I can't," I admit with a tight jaw. "Do you have any idea how that feels?"

"I could write a book on the subject."

I spin around, dragging a hand down my neck at the thought of _Piper touching me_. Right now, my visceral reaction is physical, but there's so much more that draws me to her. I love her confidence despite her age; her willingness to take risks; her eagerness to teach; and her intellectual dexterity. I've only scratched the surface on getting to know Piper, but I want to know everything.

"You're the one who doesn't want this—"

"I want this!" I interrupt, whipping around again. "But I can't have it! _We_ can't have it!"

"I'm sick of this." She shakes her head. "If looking at me makes you uncomfortable, leave. If you can't stand to be around me day after day, fire me. I'm done." She walks away, and just as I'm about to go after her, Nicky steps outside.

She looks from Piper to me. "Everything ok?"

"I need to get out of here." I storm off down the street and don't look back.

"You're just going to leave your car?" Nicky yells.

I keep walking so fast I'm almost jogging, infuriated that I can't process my feelings in a logical fashion. I certainly couldn't drive in the state I'm in. Fuck her. Fuck Piper. She has no business going around town dressed like a slutty skeleton. I keep up the pace, fuming about our encounter until I arrive in a residential part of town that I don't recognize.

"Where the hell am I?" Kids are trick-or-treating and laughter fills the air. For a moment, I wonder if it's the next day. Since when do kids trick-or-treat on the Saturday before Halloween? I pull out my phone, check the date, and then open the maps program: Boyle Heights. I'm two miles from home, and I barely know how I got here. I don't have my jacket or my purse. Hell, I don't know if I even paid the bar tab.

I am _so fucking lost_ in this web I've created for myself. I'm the one who won't give a relationship a try. I'm the one protecting our jobs. I'm the one who thinks _Piper_ isn't mature enough to handle a clandestine relationship.

It's really not her at all; _it's me_.

I sit on the curb of this nondescript street and stare into the foggy night sky. Piper had every right to dress in a costume tonight, revealing or not. I'm not her parent or her partner. I'm her boss, but that has nothing to do with what she does on weekends, who she hangs out with or what she wears.

I let out a long, irritated breath.

The truth of the matter is that I want to be with her. I don't want anything to stand between us, but that's like standing in front of a 30-foot wall and pretending it's not there. Maybe there's a way around the wall and maybe there's a way around this, because I can't live this way, feeling sick, avoiding her, and shouting at her for no reason. I'm not that person, and I'm afraid of who I'm becoming.

I sit there for another 10 minutes, listening to my own breath and the happy sounds around me. There's joy in the air, and it's time I felt that, too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the reviews! You know what? You all deserve a little smut. Turn away if you're not of a certain age.

* * *

On Monday morning, I get to school early, and I know Peggy has the day off. I open both doors and wait for Piper to pass by, hoping she arrives early as usual. I owe her an apology, and I want to do that before time gets away from us.

At 7:12 a.m. I hear familiar steps down the hallway. "Piper?"

She stops, but I can't see her.

"Is that you?"

She appears in the doorway, eyebrows raised expectantly.

I move to the front of my desk. "Close the door."

"Why's it so dark in here?" She can barely finish the sentence before my mouth is on hers.

And I don't stop kissing her. My fingers tangle in her hair as I pull her impossibly close, and I feel her hands grab the fabric of my blouse. She tilts her head, and I go the other way, giving us full access to each other's mouths. Our tongues swirl in a dance as if we've rehearsed for months.

I pull back a few seconds later, hands still weaved in her hair. "First, I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night."

She's out of breath and more than a little surprised.

"Second, I want to be with you, and if that's something you want, too, I'd like to see if we can make that happen."

That entails another round of kissing and my hand up her shirt. _I need to feel her skin_.

She pulls back abruptly. "Someone might walk in."

"I pressed the button on the door, so when it closes, it locks on the outside."

"Oh." She returns her attention to my mouth, untucking my shirt along the way.

"I'm assuming you want the same thing?"

She bites my lower lip, and I know it's going to leave a mark. "Yes."

I pull back once again. "While I would love nothing more than to spend the morning kissing you, we have to stop." I brush the hair out of her face. "Can you come over tonight?"

"I think so, yeah." It's like she's in a daze.

"I'll make dinner, we can talk, and then we'll see where that takes us."

"I'd like that."

"Good." I place both hands on her cheeks and softly kiss her. "Thank you."

She covers my wrists. "For what?"

"Bearing with me while I figured my shit out."

She kisses me chastely before releasing me completely. "I was ready to walk away."

"I know." I clench my jaw.

I touch her elbow. "See you later?"

She nods. "See you later."

And for the rest of the day, I'm on top of the world.

* * *

I leave school just before 4 o'clock, which is a record for me this year. I need to pick up the ingredients for dinner, and I want it to be special. I'm not a cook by any means—the only successful dishes I've made are pasta with store-bought sauce; chicken piccata (my go-to for date nights); and bell peppers stuffed with quinoa and turkey sausage. I looked up a few recipes before leaving work, and now I'm on a mission to prepare something exceptional for Piper.

I play my All Jazz station in the living room, turning the volume up so I can hear it in the kitchen, and get to work prepping for the meal. I'm starting with a caprese salad followed by Beef Bourguignon. For dessert, I'm making homemade cookies, though I think I've bitten off more than I can chew.

I didn't give Piper a precise time to come over, and she hasn't texted me. I hope she arrives closer to 7 so I can at least get the beef in the oven and start on the cookies. As of now, I have onions, carrots, celery and mushrooms chopped. I still have to mash the garlic and brown the beef.

I hear a knock on the door at 6:40, and I'm elbow deep in flour. "Come in!"

"Hello?"

"In the kitchen," I yell.

"Something smells delicious." Piper stands in the doorway looking as attractive as ever in joggers and a long-sleeved Red Sox shirt.

I smile. "It probably smells better than it'll taste."

She takes in a big whiff. "What are you making?"

"Julia Child's recipe for Beef Bourguignon." I hold my floured hands up. "As you can see, I haven't gotten very far."

"I tried making this once." She glances at the sauté pan. "I won't tell you about the results."

"Really?" I ask with disappointment.

She nods, giving the bacon a quick stir. "But if we do it together, it might come out better."

I turn the beef over with tongs, browning the final side. "But I said I'd make dinner for you."

Piper shrugs. "We'll finish it together."

I lean over and kiss her, and _my god_ , it feels good. "Do I get to do that now?"

"Appears so." She wipes the corner of my mouth. "But let's save it for later."

"Why?"

She holds her stomach. "I'm starving."

I kiss her once more, realizing I should've ordered pizza.

She rolls up her sleeves. "Ok, put me to work."

"If you're comfortable sautéing the mushrooms and bacon, that would be a huge help." I dry the now fully browned beef with paper towels, and then cook the vegetables. "After I finish this, we can stick it in the oven for an hour and eat the Caprese salad."

"I love Caprese." She lowers the heat on the stove. "Is that what those heirloom tomatoes are for?"

"Yeah."

She removes the mushrooms and bacon from the heat. "Want me to slice the mozzarella?"

I open the fridge and pull out the cheese. "Thanks."

"Were your parents big cooks?"

"Not really," Piper responds. "My mom was queen of the Crockpot on Sundays. She never seemed comfortable in the kitchen, but she dished out a square meal almost every night." She places two discs of mozzarella on each plate. "My dad grilled in the summer. Typical gender roles that I'll do everything I can to break."

"Oh, really?" I chuckle. "So, you grill?"

"I don't own a grill, so no." She tears off a few basil leaves. "But when I have my own place I will."

Piper and I continue our casual conversation over the chopping board and hot stove, and 15 minutes later, we're able to sit at the table to enjoy the Caprese. Our conversation goes from Piper's continued thoughts on gender norms to our family upbringing to musical tastes, and like every conversation I've had with her, it's effortless.

As Miles Davis blows his trumpet through the speaker, I reach for Piper's hand across the table and smile. "Thank you for coming over tonight."

Her lips tug up. "Happy to be here."

"I had an epiphany Saturday after I left the bar, and I could hardly wait to tell you about it." I caress the top of her hand. "You've been the mature one throughout this whole thing, and you've never given me any reason to doubt your integrity."

She blushes as she looks down at her now empty plate.

"I'm sorry for being an ass."

"You weren't an ass. Well, maybe at the bar you were," she replies. "But I get why you're worried."

"I've never hidden any part of myself, including being gay. When I realized I liked girls, I told my mom right away. It wasn't this big secret that I felt like I couldn't share, you know?" I take her other hand. "I struggle with hiding our relationship or whatever _this_ might be—it feels like we're doing something wrong."

"I know." She nods. "I guess under the scrutiny of society, we _are_ doing something wrong since technically, you're my boss, but we're two adults who want to be together, and that's what I keep coming back to."

"I _do_ want to be with you." I squeeze her hand. "But we have to talk about what that could mean."

She pulls back, and my now empty hands are lying on the table. I tuck them in my lap. "If someone finds out about us, it's likely I'll lose my job."

"I'd probably lose mine, too."

I shrug. "Maybe, but you might be able to play the victim card."

"I would never do that!" Her eyebrows make a stern V. "If we're going to take a stab at this, we're equally involved. I don't want you to feel like you're taking advantage of me. That's not what this is about."

"You're right." I put my hands back on the table, wishing I could take my words back. I know Piper wouldn't take advantage of the situation if we get caught. I have to make this right. "My point is that I'm willing to risk my job to be with you."

She looks conflicted. "On one hand, I'm honored you're willing to take that risk, but on the other, I hate that we're in this position."

I nod and pause for a moment to just look at her. Not that I needed confirmation, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she's the woman I want to be with possibly even long-term. She's _rational_ ; I didn't expect that from someone her age. I'm learning a lot about expectations, and Piper is blowing them all out the water.

"Should we talk about how we should move forward?"

"Yeah, I guess." She shrugs, and I can tell this whole thing makes her uncomfortable. Hell, _I'm_ uncomfortable, too.

"It goes without saying that we can't kiss or touch at school," I begin. "If we act pretty much like we have been for the last three months, we'll be fine."

"Except for the moping around part?"

I point a thumb at my chest. "Me, moping?"

She gives me a look.

"I was…" I struggle for a way to describe how I felt. "Frustrated and sad that I had this major fucking crush on you and couldn't do anything about it."

Piper blushes. "A crush?"

"Yeah." It's my turn to blush. I grab her hand again. " _Major fucking crush_."

"I didn't think you were so bad either," she teases.

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding. I have a major fucking crush on you, too."

I stand in front of her, holding both hands. "I want to give this a shot, Piper."

She has that doe-eyed look. "Me, too."

I tug her hands until she's standing and kiss her softly. My head is spinning, and I feel drunk.

My mouth moves down her neck. "Do you want to have dinner now or later?"

Her fingertips skim up my arm. "Definitely later."

I walk her backwards until we reach the living room. She uses one hand to untuck my shirt and the other to cradle my face. I deepen the kiss, placing both hands on her ass. Piper angles her head the other way while snaking her hand under my shirt until her fingertips hit the bottom of my breast. I wish I wasn't wearing a bra. My hands glide up her back, gathering the fabric of her shirt along the way until its as high as it can go. She stops kissing me and holds her arms up so I can remove the shirt. I stare at her naked torso for a moment.

"You're beautiful." I don't mean for it to come out in a whisper, but I think she has literally taken my breath away.

Piper returns her mouth to mine in a more frantic kiss than before. Her hands aren't still for more than a couple seconds like she can't get enough of me. I know the feeling. I make quick work on the clasps of her bra, revealing small, perfect breasts. I cover them with my hands, feeling her taut nipples brush against my palms as wetness pools between my legs. Piper struggles with my shirt, so I remove it and allow her to caress my bra-clad tits until she attempts to remove the garment. Her hands snake around me, all the while our mouths never leaving each other, and she fumbles with the clasps. I reach back to help her, and I wonder if she's ever slept with a woman before.

That thought goes right out the window as her mouth travels south along with her hands. Just as her lips reach my right breast, her left hand sneaks into my jeans. One of her fingers barely touches the top part of my slit, and I moan. I unbutton my jeans, giving her better access, and Piper wastes no time running her middle finger up and down my center. I feel her smile against my breast that she continues to bathe with her tongue, and I think she's satisfied with the reaction she's getting from me.

"Maybe we should lie down," I pant.

"Why?" She teases my clit.

"Because horizontal sex is better than vertical?" I squeeze her arms as she continues to work her finger inside me.

She kisses me again. "It feels pretty good from this position, don't you think?"

The sounds coming out of my mouth sound foreign. I open my stance just enough for Piper to insert her finger, and as she does so, her thumb massages my clit. Her lips travel across my cheek to my ear, which she sucks on for a moment before whispering, "You feel so good."

Seconds later, an orgasm rips through me, and I have to hold on to her for fear of falling. She keeps one finger buried deep inside of me, and I'm sure she can feel the ripples of the intense orgasm. _Fuck, Piper_! I slowly come down from that otherworldly high, breathing heavily. She pulls her finger out, examines it, and then brings it to her mouth. Oh My God.

As soon as I'm able to function properly, I kiss her, allowing my hands to roam down her body, my short nails scratching her skin. I gently push her onto the sofa, and my mouth makes its way across her chest. The feel of her erect nipple against my tongue gets me wet all over again. I tug on her pants, and she helps me remove them. Before I touch her center, I notice the wet spot in her underwear. I pull it to the side and rub two fingers in the slickness, eventually pulling them out and popping them into mouth. She tastes sweet; I can't wait to put my mouth on her.

"That feels good." Her chest heaves in and out and her eyes glaze over.

I kneel between Piper's legs, tugging her underwear down until they pool on the floor still wrapped around her ankle. I open her pussy with both thumbs and take a long, leisurely lick. A string of her juice dangles between her pussy and my lower lip, and I dive in for more, licking her sticky pussy until it's clean. Piper writhes beneath me, hands tangled in my hair, muttering words of how good it feels. She raises her legs, placing a foot on either of my shoulders, and I'm amazed at how flexible she is. This gives her leverage to pump against my face, and I go to town on her pussy. My entire mouth is covering her, and I use my tongue and teeth to send her over the edge as she shouts my name.

I pull back, wiping my mouth on my shoulder as Piper lowers her long legs to the ground.

"That was amazing." She tugs me up by the arms.

I smile, kissing her and agreeing. "I didn't know if you'd been with a woman before."

She positions herself in front of me as we lie on the sofa. "I have."

"Yeah, that was obvious after the first minute." I chuckle.

She turns her head and blinks up at me. "But it's never been that good."

I lower my mouth to hers, gently kissing her. "No, it hasn't."

We lie like that for several minutes, basking in the afterglow of sex. I love the way Piper's body feels against mine. I stroke her thigh and listen to her breathing become shallower, and I wonder if she's going to fall asleep. That wouldn't be a bad thing.

And then I hear her stomach growl.

"Hungry?"

"I guess I am." Piper sits up. "Do you think dinner is ready?"

"Let me check." I kiss her shoulder before standing and making my way to the kitchen and opening the oven. "Looks like it's done."

She appears behind me, wearing my unbuttoned flannel shirt and nothing else. "Did you set the timer?"

I put my hands on her hips and dip my head for a kiss. This look turns me on even more than before. "I did."

She breaks the kiss. "How much time is left?"

"I have no idea," I say as I nip at the spot just below her ear.

This leads to a quick round of kitchen sex, and just as I'm coming down from my second orgasm, the buzzer goes off.

* * *

I wake up stretching and feeling tightness in my muscles. My neck and my right arm are sore. I rub my arm and smile, remembering why I'm sore—the reason is lying next to me in what appears to be a deep sleep. The sheets cover only half of her body, which means one of her breasts is poking out and begging for attention. I reach out to touch it, but then retreat in favor of just watching Piper sleep. Her right arm is flung above her head, bent at the elbow, and her hair is splayed on the pillow like golden feathers. Her mouth is slightly ajar as she steadily breathes in and out. There's a bruise where her neck meets her shoulder, and as I lean in, I realize I've given her a hickey. I don't know whether to apologize or gloat. The way she's lying here is peaceful; beautiful. As I lean closer to place a kiss on her cheek, she stirs.

"Mmmm," she sighs without opening her eyes.

"Good morning." I smile. "Sleep well?"

She blinks rapidly and squints against the beam of light streaming through a slit in the curtains. "I did." She rolls onto her side. "You?"

I brush a strand of hair off her forehead. "Yeah."

"I never thought I'd wake up with you." What starts out as a tiny smile spreads across her face. "I could get used to this."

I caress her arm, touched by her sentiment. "Me, too."

Piper leans over to kiss me. It's a closed-lipped kiss, but it lingers long enough to send electricity through my veins.

"Last night was good." I pull her closer.

"It was." She buries her head in the crook of my neck. "I might be a little sore."

I chuckle. "I definitely am."

I feel her giggle against me.

"Do we have to go to school today?"

"Afraid so." I kiss the top of her head. "I hate that it's only Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" Piper sits up and stretches, revealing her perfect little tits, and I want to reach out to touch them. "What time is it?"

"Just past six."

"Shit!" She freezes. "I have my weekly check-in with Brent at seven."

"Alright, well, let's get out of bed." I make no attempt to follow my own advice.

"I don't have anything to wear." Piper flings her legs over the mattress. "And I don't have time to go home."

"You can wear something of mine."

She gets to her feet and stares at me like I have two heads. "Because that wouldn't be obvious."

"My closet in the spare bedroom is filled with either off-season clothes or stuff I need to take to Goodwill." I roll out of bed. "Come on, we'll find something."

I show her three dresses, two blouses and a pair of pants that are too way long.

She reaches for a simple black dress with silver buttons down the front. "What about this?"

"It's too _booby_ for me." I shrug. "But it might work for you."

She slips into the dress. "Don't think I didn't pick up on the small boob dig."

"You have smaller boobs than me," I reply through a chuckle. "But I wouldn't change a thing about you or your boobs."

The dress fits perfectly. "What about shoes?"

I give her three pair to try, and she settles for thick socks and a pair of boots. They're a little big, but she can get through the day.

We take a shower together, and I can't help but slip a finger inside her slick folds. Piper bucks against my hand and comes hard. I hold her up until she comes down from the high.

She sloppily kisses me. "I'm going to remember this when I see you at school later this morning."

"Me, too."

While still in the shower, we agree to face the opposite direction of each other for the cleaning off part so we can resist the urge to fuck again.

Piper blow dries her hair while I brush my teeth. "What's this?" She tilts her head.

I pretend not to see anything. "What?"

She stares in the mirror. "Is this a _hickey_?"

I rinse my mouth and attempt to hide a grin. "Looks like you burned your neck with a curling iron."

"I haven't curled my hair in a week." She gives me a look. "You gave me a hickey!"

I push her hair aside and kiss the bruised spot. "That appears to be the case."

"Alex!" she protests as her eyes flutter shut, betraying her stern admonishment.

I bathe the spot with my lips and tongue. "The collar of the dress will cover it."

She pushes away. "No more hickeys…at least not where people might see them."

"Noted." I give her a peck on the lips. "But the inner thigh is alright?"

Same look.

Ten minutes later, Piper is ready to leave, but before she opens the front door, I tug her by the elbow. "Hey—"

She straps her bag over one shoulder. "Hmm?"

"Thank you," I whisper.

"For what?"

"Everything." I shrug. "For coming over, for accepting my apology, for giving us a chance."

She puts a hand on my cheek.

"It's not going to be easy, hiding how we feel about each other every day," I admit. "But it's the only way through right now."

Piper nods. "I know."

I straighten her collar and smile. "Have a good day."

"You, too." She opens the door. "See you later."

With that, Piper hops on her bicycle and disappears into the fog. I'm left standing in the doorway with an over-the-moon grin.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Another chapter rated M for mature. Thank you all so much for the reviews! And a special shout out to my beta, Nicki, who always makes my stories better.

* * *

It isn't until lunch when I first see Piper at school. She's piling vegetables on her plate at the salad bar. I hope my smile doesn't give away the exhilaration I feel upon seeing her.

I grab a plate and stand on the other side of the salad bar. "Looks yummy."

She glances up at the sound of my voice and smiles. "I'm hungry."

"No breakfast?" I scoop mixed greens on my plate.

She puts a spoonful of croutons on top. "None."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," I say. "Gives you stamina."

She lifts her brows. "You think I need stamina?"

The students ahead of us don't seem to pay attention to our conversation, but still, I need to reel the flirting in.

"You seem young and spry, so the stamina is probably not an issue," I offer. "Still, breakfast is good for you."

"I wasn't offered any this morning." She pours Italian dressing over the salad. "But thanks for the tip."

I blush. "You're welcome."

She smiles, and then proceeds to the table with four other teachers.

I stare at her and try to keep a neutral expression, which is difficult knowing she's wearing _my_ dress and remembering the look on her face when she had an orgasm in the shower this morning—an orgasm that I provided.

"Hi, Alex," the biology teacher startles me. "Eating healthy today?"

"I try to eat healthy every day." I punch in my code at the cashier's station. "How are you?"

"Good. I look forward to meeting with you later this week."

"Same." I have no idea who I'm meeting with later this week, and my mind is singularly focused on when I get to see Piper again.

I take my tray to my office, debating if I should invite her over tonight or wait a day or two and ask her to come over on Saturday. I don't know if I can wait that long, and I wonder if Piper feels the same.

* * *

As I wrap up my last meeting of the day, I see a text from Piper.

 _I want to see you tonight_.

My heart soars, and I chastise myself for acting like a lovesick teen. I have to think carefully about this—of course I want to see her, but we can't make this an everyday thing. There are at least two Mounthaven families who live on my street, as well as an English teacher and her husband. If they saw Piper entering or leaving my house, it would be suspicious.

I tap my fingers on my desk before replying: _I want to see you, too, but maybe tonight is too soon_.

 _Too soon_?

I was hoping she would just agree. _We need to be careful_.

 _I know, and we will_.

I toss my phone onto my desk and let my head fall back against my chair, shutting my eyes. It's perfectly natural for us to want to be together after spending one glorious night together. Maybe if we're careful, seeing each other a couple times this week will satisfy us enough to cool it down the following week.

 _Park your bike in my backyard_.

Truth is, I can't wait to see Piper. Although I was able to get some work done today, thoughts of her consumed me. Each time I've thought about her, I've smiled and maybe even blushed a little. Right now, having a secret relationship is intriguing, but I know it will be short-lived if we get closer and want to spend more time together.

I head home around 4:30, change into sweats and play some music. I run a brush through my hair and dab on some lip gloss, feeling a little nervous as if this was our first date. Knowing I'm going to be able to hold and kiss Piper in a matter of minutes makes my heart race. I take a few deep breaths as I settle onto the sofa, computer propped on my lap.

"Knock knock," I hear her say from the kitchen. "Alex?"

I push my laptop aside and meet her. "Hey."

"The back door was unlocked, so I figured it was ok to come in."

I approach her and smile. "Yeah, of course."

"The gate getting into your backyard was a bit of a challenge," she says. "I think the latch is rusted."

"Yeah, I have to spray some WD-40 on it. I just haven't gotten around to it."

She removes her messenger bag without taking her eyes off mine. "We didn't settle on a time, so I just came over when I was free."

"We aren't very good about defining times," I admit, thinking about last night. "But now is good."

She takes two steps forward, stringing her arms over my shoulders. Her scent is intoxicating.

I wrap my arms around her waist and lean in for a kiss. Her lips are even softer than I remember. She slowly weaves her fingers into my hair and deepens the kiss. I lick her lower lip before feeling the tip of her tongue enter my mouth. It's the tease of something more, and my head is spinning. I slip my tongue into her mouth, then retreat. She makes a little sound, and then plunges her tongue in fully. The kiss goes from chaste to passionate in a matter of seconds, and my hand finds its way up the back of her shirt.

I'm too turned on to think about stopping, asking her how her day was and making small talk. Clearly, she wants me, and I definitely want her. I feel a surge of wetness between my legs as Piper's hand snakes up the front of my shirt until it cups my left breast. She pulls away, ripping off her shirt, and I take that as a cue to remove my own. Our hands and mouths are all over each other, and there's nothing elegant about it. She fumbles with the clasp of my bra, unhooking it after about 30 seconds of trying. I unbutton her jeans and lower the zipper. She makes another primal sound as my fingers enter her underwear.

I push us back until Piper hits the kitchen table, then I raise her up until she's sitting on it. All the while, her mouth hasn't left mine and her hands continue to massage my breast. I pull her jeans down as best I can so I can get the right angle to insert two fingers into her opening, and now it's my turn to moan when I feel how wet she is. She props one leg on the chair and rides my hand. When I feel her start to contract around my fingers, I stop kissing and just watch her face crumble into a beautiful orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, Alex!" she grunts, mouth hanging open.

I love how she feels, cumming hard against my hand, but I quickly pull it out and get on my knees to finish her with my mouth.

Piper balances herself with one hand on the table, the other on the back of my head. "Ahhhh…fuck!"

I lick her dripping pussy, and then nibble on her sensitive nub.

"Alex, I…I…" Her head rolls back as the orgasm continues shooting through her, and I wonder how long I can make it last. I insert the same two fingers into her opening and lick her clit as fast as my tongue will move.

"Fuck, ungh!" She bucks against my face.

Removing my fingers, I stick my tongue insider her, opening her pussy and feeling her juices drip down my chin. I could stay down here forever, licking and lapping at her sweet center.

She lets out a long sigh and removes her hand from the back of my head. "Fuck, Alex."

I give her one more good lick and then look up at her. "Were you cumming that whole time?"

She nods. "I've never had an orgasm that long before."

I get to my feet, wiping my mouth on my arm and stepping closer to her. Both of her hands are splayed behind her on the table as she continues to catch her breath. I love how exposed she is to me. I toy with her right nipple and lean down for a kiss. "You're beautiful when you cum." Another kiss. "Let me rephrase that. You're beautiful all the time—it's just a different sort of beauty when you're in the middle of an orgasm."

"Yeah?" She blinks up at me, eyelids heavy.

I nod, and then deepen the kiss.

Before I know it, we've switched positions, and Piper is between my legs. Watching her head bob up and down is enough to send me clear over the edge. Despite giving me a powerful orgasm, she doesn't stop. She keeps licking me lightly until I feel myself getting wet again.

"I've never had multiples," I say, just in case it doesn't work out. I wouldn't want her to feel bad for not making me cum again.

"There's a first time for everything." She reaches up and tweaks my nipple before inserting her tongue inside my pussy. The sounds her mouth is making are enough to push me over the edge.

A few more licks, and I'm cumming for the second time in ten minutes. "Oh, fuck, Piper!"

I come down from my high, and she pops her head up, chin glistening. "I guess you've had your first multiple orgasm."

"You're very talented." I pull her towards me.

"I've never given anyone multiples," she admits with a kiss.

"Really?"

She shakes her head.

I smile. "I'm glad we were each other's first."

We head upstairs to clean ourselves up, and before I know it, we're fucking on the bathroom rug. I decide to chalk this streak of sex up to our mutual attraction and the newness of our relationship. There will be a time, I'm sure, when we just talk the night away, but for now, the sex is just too fucking good to stop.

* * *

If there was any question about Piper and my sexual compatibility, it was answered in the next two weeks. She only came over one weeknight each week, but we spent 48 hours together on the weekends. If we don't want to get caught, the safest thing to do is just to stay inside which neither of us minds because it means we get to have copious amounts of sex.

It isn't until a few days before Thanksgiving when Piper comes over and we _don't_ have sex the moment she steps inside.

I put our dishes into the dishwasher. "Look at how mature we are—you've been here for over an hour and we haven't had sex."

"We're _very_ mature," she responds, scooping the roasted vegetables into a container.

Even though we've had _a lot_ of sex since we decided to be together, we've also had moments of domesticity. Turns out, I love playing house with Piper. We're incredibly compatible—if I'm filling a pot with water, she's pulling the spaghetti out of the pantry; if I'm cleaning dishes, she's wiping the table. If I grab a bottle of wine, she pulls out the corkscrew. There hasn't been a moment when I've had to ask her to do this or that; it happens organically.

"What are your plans for Thanksgiving?" I take two glasses to the living room.

"I don't have any." Piper follows with a bottle of Pinot. "Thanksgiving used to be a big deal growing up. We'd go to my grandma's house where she'd make a huge spread complete with turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and more pies than I could count."

I sit on the sofa, handing her a glass as the soothing voice of Etta James breezes through the air.

"When she died a few years ago, we stopped celebrating Thanksgiving." She shrugs. "It was like the holiday didn't exist."

"That's kind of sad."

"It is." She looks contemplative. "To be honest, I don't even know what my family is doing for the holiday."

"Do they expect you to go home?" I take a sip.

"I don't know." She lifts her shoulders. "I'm not, so it doesn't matter what they expect."

Piper filled me in on her family life on our first "date" and has made comments here and there about them. It sounds like a shattered relationship, and the only family member she talks to regularly is her younger brother.

She tucks her legs under her. "What about you?"

"I haven't done much for Thanksgiving since my mom died," I admit. "Last year, Nicky and I stayed in her family's cabin in Vermont."

"Sounds fun."

"I love Nicky, don't get me wrong, but spending more than a day with her is a little much."

She smiles. "I'd like to get to know her better."

I reach for her hand. "You will."

"Would you want to…" there's a surprising level of uncertainty in her voice. "Maybe hang out over the break?"

I'm touched she'd want to spend Thanksgiving with me.

"I know for some people holidays are a big deal," she continues. "And I don't want to overstep if—"

"Relax, babe." I squeeze her hand. "I would love to spend Thanksgiving with you."

A smile glides across her face.

I'm sure mine matches hers. "We could make a big meal here or order from Whole Foods or even get Chinese takeout."

"What if we went away?" she suggests. "Where no one would find us."

I love observing her face when she's thinking—she looks down or side to side, and her mouth hangs slightly open.

"I don't know if that place even exists," she adds.

"Anywhere in New England is out of the question. Florida is probably riddled with Mounthaven families trying to get a little sun over the five-day break."

She taps a finger against her chin. "What about someplace warm—Phoenix or New Orleans or San Diego?"

"Phoenix?" I chuckle.

"Not a place I'd expect to run into anyone we know."

"True." I prop a pillow under my arm. "Plane tickets will probably be outrageous."

"Let's look it up." She walks over to her bag, pulling out her laptop. "We'll search for the cheapest airfare in the country and go from there."

It's in that normal, everyday sort of moment when I realize I'm falling in love with her. This awareness knocks the wind out of me; I feel sweat prickling the back of my neck. It shouldn't have happened so fast—Piper and I have been together for three weeks, certainly not enough time to _fall in love_. Though I have to give myself _some_ credit—although we haven't been in a relationship for very long, I've been attracted to her since the first time we met at Jam Fest. The more I've gotten to know her, the more I'm drawn to her.

I quickly stand, which is a bad idea as the blood rushes from my head to my feet and I have to steady myself before I go tumbling over. "Want some water?" I don't turn around for fear that if she looks at me, she'll know something is wrong.

She's engrossed in the airfare search. "No, thanks."

I splash cold water on my face and run my hand down the back of my neck. I'm being silly—so what if I'm falling in love with her? Isn't that a good thing? I put my hands on the counter and hang my head. Do I tell her about my feelings, or do I keep them to myself for now? I'd want to know if Piper was falling in love with me, but I worry it's too soon to admit these overwhelming feelings.

"Boston to New Orleans would be $825 per person," she reports from the other room. "That's not happening."

I lift my head and take another deep breath before filling a glass with water and returning to the living room.

"I'll try Boston to Phoenix." Piper is sitting on the edge of the sofa, laptop perched on the coffee table, legs slightly open. "A little better: $610 per person." She glances in my direction, expression shifting from lighthearted to worrisome. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah." I lower my eyes and return to my spot on the sofa.

I can feel her staring at me. "You're pale."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm naturally pale," I joke, hoping to throw her off the scent.

She touches the back of her hand to my forehead. "I don't think you have a fever."

"I told you, I'm fine." I take a long sip of water. "If anything, I might be a little dehydrated."

"If you say so." She stares at me a few seconds more before returning to the computer. "I'll try flights to San Diego, but those will probably be even more expensive."

 _I won't. I can't. I shouldn't…_

"Piper, I'm falling in love with you."

 _What the fuck just came out of my mouth_? It's like my lips aren't coordinating with my brain. I desperately want to press rewind. _Fuck_. Maybe she didn't hear me.

Piper sits up straighter, eyes boring into me. "What?"

"Sorry, I…" I get to my feet and once again feel the prickle of sweat at my hairline. "That just came out…It was stupid."

She stands, and her knee hits the laptop, knocking it over. "You're falling in love with me?"

I toy with my glasses, eyes averted. She tips my chin up, forcing me to look at her.

Finally, I do, and I have to tell the truth. "Yeah, kind of."

"Kind of?" Piper laughs as her expression shifts from solemn to playful. "How do you _kind of_ fall in love with someone?" She wraps her arms around my neck, and something about the move is unexpectedly sexy. Maybe it's how slowly and deliberately she's moving.

I drape my arms around her waist. "I knew I felt something… powerful towards you, but it didn't dawn on me that it was love until a few minutes ago."

"I see." Her fingers slink into my hair. "I read a study once where a pair of strangers asked a series of 30 questions to each other for 45 minutes and built intimacy in that amount of time."

"As hot and as brilliant as you are," I begin with a kiss on her jawline. "I don't think I fell in love with you in 45 minutes."

"No?" She kisses the spot just below my ear. "Because if you ask me, I think it's been happening since we first met."

I pull back. "Really?"

She kisses me twice on the cheek, and then on the mouth. "Really."

The kiss deepens for a moment, and then we share a series of pecks on the lips, both breaking into a wide smile.

"Wait, did you say _we_ as in you feel the same about me?" I ask.

She nods.

"I guess that means we're in love."

I rub her back. "Technically, _falling_ in love…it's an active, ongoing kind of thing."

"Yeah."

I kiss her forehead. "Sorry I kind of blurted it out—that's not how I imagined telling you."

She pulls me back to the sofa. "How did you imagine it?"

"I didn't have a scenario in my head, but it definitely wasn't going to be a heat of the moment sort of thing."

She snuggles under my arm and holds the hand that's dangling over her shoulder. "I was going to wait for the most romantic moment."

I bring her hand to my lips. "You had it planned?"

"No." She shrugs. "I just thought it should be significant."

A small laugh escapes. "You mean like the _opposite_ of today?"

Piper twists her neck until she's looking at me. "Today was perfect."

"It was not!" I wave her off.

"Yes, it was." She turns her body fully towards me. "You didn't plan it, which means it was honest and natural. That's the way it should be rather than in some contrived, idealistic moment."

I kiss her nose. "I'm sure the moment you chose would've been perfect, too."

"Maybe, but I'm glad it happened this way." She smiles before arching up for a kiss. "Besides, I like that you told me first."

"I did that on purpose—to take the pressure off you," I lie.

She bumps her shoulder against mine. "Bullshit!"

I hold up one hand in surrender. "Fine, fine."

"Well, I'm glad it's out there," she says, untangling from me and sidling up to the computer. "Now we can plan our _in love_ trip."

I roll my eyes for show. "Our _in love_ trip?"

"Yes." She types a new destination into the website. "It's a trip you take after you've declared your love for someone."

"Is that right?" I move next to her, thighs touching. "Maybe they'll give us an _in love_ discount."

"I'm sure they will."

As Piper plugs in several more destinations, we're awfully handsy. I can't get enough of her, and I never want this feeling to end. There've been only a couple times in my adult life when I've felt _giddy_ , and this is one of those times.

"It's no use," she sighs, leaning back. "Unless you want to spend three nights in Little Rock."

"I'll take a hard pass on that." I lean back, tossing an arm around her shoulders. "I have an idea. Let's take a road trip. We can stay at a resort or a cabin or rent an apartment."

"But you said there's a chance that Mounthaven faculty or families would spend Thanksgiving all over New England."

"They'll be in the Berkshires, New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine, maybe Boston and New York," I offer. "Probably not places like Saratoga Springs."

That seems to intrigue her. "Saratoga?"

"If that feels too metropolitan, we can go to one of the smaller towns like Glen Falls or Lake George."

"I'd be open to that." She sits up again and types Saratoga Springs into the search engine.

We spend the next hour, searching for inns, resorts, hotels and cabins, and either everything is sold out for the Thanksgiving holiday or the prices are astronomical.

"We're never going to find a place with a three-day advanced notice," Piper sighs.

"You're giving up that easily?" I put my feet against the coffee table and hoist the computer onto my thighs. "I thought you'd be far more tenacious." I pull up Airbnb's website and type a few criteria for our trip.

"I feel defeated." Piper walks into the kitchen. "Wanna split a beer?"

"Sure." I scroll through two pages before finding something that appears to be in our price range and available. "I might've found something."

"Read me the description," she calls.

"Enjoy the Adirondacks the way they're meant to be. Charming, rustic home with all the appeal you'd expect. Cabin is minutes from Lake George village. Cozy up next to the fireplace or enjoy the lake view from the deck," I read. "One bedroom with king-sized bed and bathroom with Jacuzzi tub. Spacious working kitchen with double ovens. Fall is a great time to visit Lake George, and this cabin is your perfect retreat."

"The word _rustic_ usually means outdated." Piper peeks over my shoulder, handing me the beer. "Click on the photos."

I do exactly that, and it _does_ look like a small, charming cabin with log-cabin style furniture. "Nice fireplace."

"The bedroom looks comfortable, and I like that they have a Jacuzzi tub." She hits the 'next' button from over my shoulder. "Great deck with a view. What's the catch?"

I enter our precise dates and see what comes up. "It's $189 plus tax per night. That's half the cost of the other available properties that aren't nearly as nice."

Piper puts a hand on her hip. "Huh."

"Told you to leave it to me," I gloat.

She snags the beer from me in mock indignation, and then sits next to me with a sore loser expression. "If you want to book it, go ahead."

"I will." I enter my credit card number, and it confirms our stay. "Looks like we're going on our first trip together."

"Looks like it." A smile slowly surfaces. "Now you know how petulant I can be," she admits, taking my hand.

I grin. "Not one of your best qualities, but I think I can live with it."

She kisses me. "Good."


	9. Chapter 9

Piper volunteered to do all the grocery shopping for our trip, and when she arrives at my house on Thanksgiving morning, you'd swear we were going away for a month.

As I shove my duffel bag into my car, she arrives in an Uber.

I squint against the sun and watch her fumble with two bags. "Need some help?"

"Yes, please."

I grab three grocery sacks from the trunk. "What is all this?"

"Food, supplies, stuff we'll need." She sniffs. "Don't worry about what's inside," she instructs as I peek in one of them and see sweet potatoes and corn syrup. "Just take them to your car. Oh, and please tell me you have an ice chest."

Twenty minutes and a whole lot of eye rolling later, we're finally on the road.

"I've never ridden in your car." Piper glances at the interior. "I've always wanted a Range Rover."

"I bought it from Brent after he and his wife had their third kid."

"Brent can afford this kind of car on a teacher's salary?" she asks.

"His wife is a surgeon," I reply. "And I think he bought it used."

"Ah. Makes sense."

"I don't think we've wished each other happy Thanksgiving," I say as we make our way onto the interstate.

"Happy Thanksgiving." She leans over and kisses my cheek. "Are you excited?"

"I am." I grin. "You?"

"Very."

I eye her up and down as much as possible from the interior of my car. "You look very autumnal."

She has on jeans and a gold sweater with a brown leather jacket and a maroon beanie.

"Thanks." She eyes me. "You look hot."

I blush. "I'm not wearing anything new."

"Looking hot is your natural state of being." She shrugs, pulling my free hand into her lap. "I printed out a couple different routes we might take, but I'm leaning towards the one that dips into the valley." She pulls a few papers from her purse. "Apparently, it's been unseasonably warm and the trees in the valley are still ripe with fall colors."

"Sounds nice."

She takes out a pamphlet. "I also picked up this leaf peeping guide."

" _Leaf peeping_? What are we, an 80-year-old couple?" I chuckle. "What else do you have in there?"

She releases my hand and sets her purse on her lap, taking out various papers and a book. "A guide for things to do in Lake George; a list of quality restaurants; and a brochure for the Fort William Henry Museum—a must see for the history buff in me."

"Wouldn't it have been more convenient, not to mention more environmentally friendly, to use your phone for all this information?"

"Probably, but it's easier to access it this way." Piper shrugs. "And I promise to recycle or donate every one of these things when I'm done."

I'm tickled by her antics. I've never met someone quite like Piper Chapman, and I don't think there's a soul on the planet even close to who she is. She's persistent, detail-oriented and too fucking adorable for words. The best part is, Piper _is who she is_ —she doesn't put on airs or try to be someone different. She has a self-awareness that most middle-aged people don't have much less 21-year-olds.

"Seems like the only thing you don't have is a mix tape," I joke.

"Oh, but I do!" She yanks a cord out of her purse, plugging one end into her iPod. "I didn't know if your car would have an audio jack."

"It's old, but not ancient."

She plugs the other end into the dashboard. "I even included some old people music on here just for you."

"Old people music?"

She nods. "You know: the Bee Gees, Steely Dan, Abba."

"Those are bands from the 70s!" I laugh. "I was born in the early 80s."

"Ah." Judging by the look on her face, she's messing with me. "Then how about The Cure, Depeche Mode, and Bruce Springsteen?"

"The Jersey girl in me loves some Springsteen." I smile from ear to ear. "What else do you have?"

She lists a few more 80s bands and a slew of pop artists I've never heard of.

This trip will be good for us on so many levels, not to mention discovering each other's idiosyncrasies along the way. The thing I'm most curious about is if our age difference will play a role in how we get along. It hasn't yet, but the most time we've spent together is two days in a row, and when we did that, 90% of the time we were either fucking or sleeping.

* * *

The drive through the valley was worth the extra 45 minutes. The trees are alive with colorful leaves, some of which are so bright they make my eyes hurt. With the windows rolled down, music playing and the smell of damp leaves in the air, there's a feeling of exhilaration that courses over me. It doesn't hurt that a beautiful woman is beside me. Piper alternates between admiring the foliage to reading excerpts from the leaf peeping guide, and I'm fascinated by her thirst for knowledge. It's not just Autumnal trees—she's fascinated by everything she sees from obscure road signs to old diners along the drive. She has a youthful exuberance that I've never witnessed or experienced myself. It might sound cliché especially given the season, but Piper is a breath of fresh air.

We stop for lunch at one of the roadside diners, and Piper reads highlights from her Lake George guidebook aloud.

She munches on one of my fries instead of feasting on the side salad she simply _had_ to order. "Did you know that Lake George contains approximately 186 islands, 154 of which are state-owned with about 50 available for camping and some 30 plus that are privately owned?"

"I did not know that." I take the final bite of my Club sandwich.

"And that 'Diamond Island,' located three miles north of Lake George Village, was named for the quartz crystals which were found there and mistaken for diamonds?"

"I'm going to stop you right there, babe." I cover her hand. "I can assure you, whatever you ask me about Lake George, I will not know, so posing these questions will get you nowhere."

"Oh." She looks offended.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't tell me more, just don't make it a question."

She sips her root beer. "Sorry, that's the teacher in me."

"Because you've been a teacher for so long," I comment through a grin.

She gives me a look. "Fine. Let's talk about things we want to do while we're there."

Piper lists the top ten things to do in Lake George, most of which are summertime activities, but she's undeterred. She mentions the red trolley, a museum or two and a dinner cruise on a paddlewheel boat.

"I know one thing I'd like to do that doesn't involve any top ten attraction." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"Well, that's a given." She stands, kissing me on the cheek. "I want to take a few pictures of the foliage outside. I'll meet you at the car."

On the last little jaunt to our cabin, Piper convinces me to pull over on a dirt road to have sex. (Not that I needed much convincing, but I did protest just so I could observe her pouty face.) Once I'm pretty sure no one is going to drive by, we get out and Piper takes a picnic blanket with her.

"We might want to be quick seeing as how exposed we are," I say, walking further into the woods.

She stops. "How about here? Under this canopy of red and gold."

I look up at the colorful leaves and can see the bright blue sky peeking between branches. "Wow, look at that."

She lays down the blanket.

I get turned on just thinking about having sex with her in the outdoors.

She unbuttons her jeans while I undo my corduroys, and we stand on the blanket and kiss. Piper slowly lowers us to the ground, and before long, we're rolling right off the blanket in a passionate makeout session.

The thrill of possibly getting caught coupled with Piper's pussy in my face is enough to make me cum in record time. Since we're in the 69 position, her orgasm hits just after mine begins, and neither of us attempts to remain quiet.

"That was hot," she pants, moving so that we're face to face.

I hold her close. "Sex with you is always hot."

"Agreed." I hear her chuckle. "And look, we didn't get caught except by that squirrel."

"Fuck!" I immediately jump to my feet. "I'm not a fan of squirrels."

She laughs. "Why not? They're so cute."

"They carry rabies." I make a beeline out of the woods and call over my shoulder, "I'll be in the car when you're done making friends with the wildlife."

* * *

We drive another 30 minutes to the cabin, and Piper is like a school girl when she sees the location near the lake and steps inside.

I run my hand over the back of the 1970s plaid sofa. "It's old and a little tattered, but it'll do."

She moves further into the living room. "The fireplace is even bigger than I thought. And there's tons of wood."

"That's good since we're expecting a major cold front to roll through tonight." Piper read me the weather forecast, and if it holds up, the region expects up to a foot of snow overnight into tomorrow.

We unload the car, putting away the groceries and unpacking our bags. Piper finds a place to plug in her iPod and turns on the third playlist she made for the trip titled _Lake Life_. I enjoy her taste in music, and even though I haven't heard of half the bands she's included, I've liked every song, particularly the one playing now, _From Gold_ , by Novo Amor.

After sitting on the deck, holding hands and admiring the view for half an hour, Piper turns to me. "Are you ready to cook our Thanksgiving feast?"

"Shouldn't we have put the turkey in like five hours ago?"

"We weren't here five hours ago." She stands, offering me her hand. "And I bought a turkey breast that takes like two hours to bake."

I follow her inside. "What else is on the menu?"

"I figured we should only attempt simple recipes," she begins, removing items from the refrigerator. "So we'll have cranberry sauce, green beans, and broccoli-cheese rice. The most complicated dish will be the sweet potato casserole."

"Yum." I pull the sweet potatoes and onions from a bag. "What about gravy for the turkey?"

She holds up a packet. "We just mix this with water, and voila!"

We chop all the ingredients, stealing kisses and even little dances along the way, and it reminds me of our first date when I made Beef Bourguignon, only this time, Piper and I are a couple and I have much higher hopes that this meal will turn out better than the first. It's hard to describe how I feel when I'm around her other than to say _I'm overjoyed_. She makes me feel young again—like I get a total redo of my relatively shitty 20s.

Turns out, making even a simple Thanksgiving spread is a lot of work—I blame much of it on the amount of peeling and chopping I'm doing. By seven o'clock, we're both exhausted and starving, and the food is finally ready.

"This is amazing," I say with my mouth full. "These sweet potatoes are like crack."

"Mmm," Piper offers. "They _are_ good. The turkey is a little salty, but it's edible."

I stab a piece of meat. "Try it with a dab of cranberry sauce—it takes the saltiness away."

"Oh, yeah. Much better."

After we shovel food into our mouths for five minutes, Piper makes a sound. "We forgot to toast!" She raises her glass and waits for me to do the same. "I offer thanks to you for giving us a chance. I know we defy conventional coupledom," she pauses as I giggle at her choice of words. "But I think this could be good."

I tap my glass against hers. "I think you're right."

After eating almost everything on my plate, I say, "This is my first real Thanksgiving."

She passes me the green beans. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't have a traditional meal on most holidays," I reply. "My mom worked in restaurants similar to the one where we had lunch today. She got paid double time to work on holidays, so when I was young, I'd usually hang out in a back corner of the restaurant and read. When I was old enough to stay at home alone, my mom would get in way past dinnertime, but she'd bring me leftovers."

Piper frowns. "That sounds awful."

"It was all I knew." I shrug. "The turkey was always cold and dry; the mashed potatoes were from a box and you could walk across the skin of the gravy. It did _not_ taste like this."

She takes my hand. "I'm sorry you've never had a proper Thanksgiving."

"I'm having one now." I issue a grateful smile.

"Good." She squeezes my hand, and then releases it. "Tell me more about your mom."

"She was the best." I scoop another round of green beans and sweet potato casserole onto my plate. "She worked a lot, which taught me the value of tenacity, but when she was off, we'd hang out a lot. She believed in tough love, but she was always fair. When I told her I liked girls, she took me in her arms, kissed me and said, _I think that's great, kid_." I unexpectedly choke up. "Wow, sorry." I dab my eyes. "I haven't talked about her in a long time."

"It's ok." Piper smiles softly at me. "I like hearing about her."

"One thing she made sure of was that I stayed in school," I continue. "She didn't want me to live a life like hers where she worked 10-12 hours, six days a week making minimum wage."

"Did she see you graduate from college?"

I nod. "She was still alive when I got my Master's, too." I set my fork down. "I think she was proud of me."

"I _know_ she was." Piper grabs my hand again, caressing it with her thumb. "I'm sure she's looking down on you now, beaming with pride for who you've become."

"I hope so." I wipe my eyes again. "I am _not_ a crier. This totally took me by surprise."

She raises her glass. "A toast to Diane. May she always live on in your heart."

"Cheers." I take a long swig of Beaujolais nouveau, so very thankful for the woman next to me.

I change the topic to the weather, which seems to be shifting rapidly. We clean the dishes, turn the music louder and put the pumpkin pie in the oven.

"I'll build a fire." Piper starts stacking logs in the fireplace.

"Need some help?"

"No, thanks. Sit down and kick your feet up."

I plop on the sofa, letting my head fall back and my eyes close. "If you say so." Damn, I'm tired. It didn't help to let out such raw emotions at dinner, so now I'm physically and emotionally beat.

"Would you mind if I played some instrumental music?"

"Sure."

With my eyes still closed, I focus on the calming music and the smell of the cabin—it's a little musty, but the scent of sweet potatoes, roasted turkey and pumpkin pie permeate the air. And then Piper sits next to me and _smells like home_. It's a combination of baby powder, red wine and a little bit of crushed leaves.

I open my eyes, keeping my head on the back of the sofa, and turn to her. "How is this so easy?"

She shakes her head, eyes glistening. "I don't know." And then leans in for a kiss. "But I'm glad it is."

"Maybe we can just stay here forever."

She tucks herself against my body. "If we can't, let's make every moment count."

I nod against the top of her head. "Let's."

* * *

I wake up in a foreign bed next to Piper and smile at her sleeping form. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, and I'm glad we're miles and miles away from home. The morning sun is trying to peak out from behind a layer of clouds, but it isn't quite ready to show its face yet. We left the blinds mostly open before climbing into bed last night, and when I get a good look outside, I notice snow on the deck.

I kiss Piper's shoulder before quietly sneaking out of bed to see how much snow has accumulated. As I approach the sliding glass door, I see it's still coming down lightly and there's about two inches already on the ground. There's a significant draft by the door, so I back away and snag one of the terrycloth robes from the closet. I decide to let Piper sleep in, and I'll make coffee and enjoy the stillness of the morning. It's rare that I allow myself to enjoy mornings like this. When I'm at home, there's always something to do whether that's cleaning the house, responding to e-mails, or going to the grocery store, so to _just exist_ and savor the quietness of the morning is a real treat.

The coffee the owners left for us in a welcome basket is phenomenal—it's rich, smooth and a little nutty. Usually, I take almond milk and a touch of sugar in my coffee, but this is too good to ruin it with that stuff. With the hot cup in my hands, I gaze into the distance and can barely see the lake through the fog of snow. It's a beautiful scene like one might find on a Christmas card or in a holiday calendar.

I turn on Piper's iPod to listen to some calming music, and the gentle sound of Yiruma's piano wafts through the air. I keep the volume low so as not to wake her.

Last night was the first night we've spent together without having sex. I smile as I recollect our dinner together and our conversation about my mom. Even after dinner when we relaxed in front of the fireplace, sex was the furthest thing from my mind. That's a real breakthrough for me—the first few months of just _seeing_ Piper made me want to fuck her. The more I got to know her, the more I wanted her sexually, and when we ultimately got together, it was the first thing I thought about.

It's not that I'm 'over' having sex with her— _hell no_! I just think we hit a point yesterday where getting to know each other and sharing our emotions surpassed our desire to make love. Of course, now that I'm thinking about _not_ having sex with her, all I want to do is have sex with her. I don't think Piper would mind if I woke her up with my head between her legs, so I do just that.

She breathes heavily after what I assume was an unexpected orgasm. "What was that for?"

I crawl up her body, kissing every bit of exposed skin. "Making up for not having sex last night."

"Huh. I guess we didn't." She rotates on her side, facing me. "That's interesting."

"What's interesting about it?" I prod.

"It's the first night we've been together and haven't had sex."

I try to hide my grin, considering I was _just_ thinking about the same thing. "True."

"I'm not complaining," she offers, brushing a strand of hair over my shoulder. "I'm glad, actually."

I chuckle. "You're glad?"

She nods. "We've crossed a threshold where sex isn't the most important part of our relationship."

"You're right." I rub her arm. "I was drinking coffee before you woke up, thinking about that." I pause to kiss her innocently on the lips. "Yesterday was the first time we discussed something super personal. I don't talk about my mom much. In fact, I don't remember the last time I told anyone details about my younger years."

Her eyes search my face like she's looking at a map. "I'm happy you told me."

I give her a grateful smile. "Me, too."

"I would've liked getting to know your mom."

I smile, feeling tears prickle my eyes. "She would've loved you."

We lie in bed, wrapped in each other for almost an hour, basking in the glow of this fresh, surprisingly mature relationship.

"I'm dying for some coffee." Piper finally sits up. "Did you make a full pot?"

"I did and it's delicious." I get out of bed ready to start the day with my girlfriend.

* * *

It should come as no surprise that Piper wants to hit every major attraction in Lake George. First, we go to the Fort William Henry Museum, then we freeze our asses off exploring Fort Ticonderoga. Piper is like a kid in a candy store at both historical attractions. I enjoy myself, too, but I like watching her exuberance even more than touring the sites themselves. Despite having a ton of leftovers, we opt for an order of fish & chips at The Docksider, and Piper encourages me to choose our next adventure.

"I'd love to explore the village."

"Perfect."

We hold hands, walking from store to store, and I'm on top of the world. Despite a few ugly stares, most people pay us no attention. I don't care what people think about us, as long as they're not affiliated with Mounthaven.

A gold thumb ring in the window display of the town jewelry store catches Piper's eye, but she's quickly deterred by the free samples of fudge a man is handing out next door at Sweet Tooth. She insists upon buying a block of peanut butter fudge while I peruse the jewelry shop, and then we spend some time in Adirondack Gifts & Books. I purchase a Christmas tree ornament, commemorating our trip and hoping it'll be the first of many future ornaments I buy with her. She buys a vintage Lake George sweatshirt that wreaks of 1976— _that's part of its charm_ , she says.

It's part of _your_ charm, I think.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you again for the reviews. This story is likely going to be 14 chapters, so four left after this one. I don't think I'll be able to post another chapter until Monday evening at the earliest. Have a great weekend!


	10. Chapter 10

We head back to the cabin to take a well-deserved nap, and before we know it, it's time to go on the paddlewheel lake cruise.

The chill in the air notwithstanding, it's a beautiful evening for a sunset cruise. We board the boat, get our two complimentary cocktails, and then head to the second deck where a jazz band is playing. There are people dancing and milling about as the boat slows to a crawl at the premier sunset watching spot. The captain comes on the intercom, asking the passengers to look out the eastern windows for the best view of the sun going down.

He's right—the sky is pink, purple, blue and gold. Piper drags me onto the outdoor deck where it's freezing cold, but she insists upon getting some good pictures of the sunset. I can handle it for a few minutes, but the wind is ripping right through me. She stands in front of me against the railing, and I wrap my arms around her for warmth. This is a lot better.

"Want me to take your picture?" a woman asks.

Piper hands over her phone. "Sure."

We turn around and smile for the camera.

"Thank you."

She walks away, and Piper and I glance at the photo. It's perfect.

"I might have to frame this," she says.

"There's a reflection in my glasses," I reply. "I should've taken them off."

"But you aren't really _you_ without glasses." She pauses. "I was going to make a Clark Kent reference, but that would've gotten me nowhere."

"Let's watch the sun go down, Lois Lane."

We return to our positions against the railing, relishing the last few minutes of the sunset. It's a glorious moment I'll never forget.

"I can't feel my toes," Piper complains.

"Finally, you've come to your senses. Let's go back inside." I grab her hand. "Want another drink?"

"Yeah, I'll have the same."

I kiss the side of her head, and then find the nearest bar on the second level.

The jazz band is playing _For Sentimental Reasons_ , and I sway to the soft beat as the line for the bar thins out. I couldn't wipe the silly grin off my face if I tried. This evening, hell, this whole trip has been magical.

"Alex is that you?" The Mounthaven Board of Trustees chairman approaches me.

 _Oh, fuck_.

"Barry, hi." I shake his hand.

"What are the chances of us meeting here?"

"I'd say close to zero." I adjust my glasses and hope I don't look as shocked as I am. "Are you here with your family?"

"Uh, no. You?"

"May I help you?" the bartender interrupts.

I debate ordering only one drink so that Barry thinks I'm alone. "Two gin and tonics, please." I turn to him. "I'm here with a friend."

"I didn't think anyone from the Mounthaven community would make the trek up to Lake George over Thanksgiving break." He pulls out a credit card. "Allow me."

"Thank you," I reply. "I didn't think so either, which is why I came—not that it isn't a pleasure seeing you," I quickly add.

"You as well," he says, then turns to the bartender. "A glass of white and a whiskey neat." Barry returns his attention to me. "So, this is sort of a secret rendezvous?"

Did he see us? Is he trying to catch me in a lie? _Shit. Fuck_. "I suppose you could call it that."

"Well, your secret is safe with me." He takes his two drinks. "I'm assuming that's mutual?"

"Yes, of course." I pick up my two cocktails, looking anywhere but at him.

"Good then." He touches my elbow. "Enjoy the cruise."

"You, too."

Barry walks in the opposite direction, and I make a beeline to Piper.

" _Fuck_!" I whisper, though the word still carries the punch that I feel in my gut.

She crosses her brow. "What is it?"

I hand her a drink. "I just ran into Barry Gilbert, our Board Chair."

"What?" Her eyes widen. "Where?"

I shade my eyes with my hand. "In line at the bar."

"Did he see us together?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "He asked if I was on some kind of secret rendezvous."

"Fuck." Piper glances around the room, though I don't know if she even knows what Barry looks like. "Does he have a kid at Mounthaven?"

"Yes, a senior—Ramona Gilbert."

"Is _she_ here?"

I remove my hand and glance over my shoulder. "No, he's not with his family."

"That's weird." She pulls her face. "Maybe he's on a business trip."

"Maybe." The music that was once appealing now sounds like thunder in my ears.

"Should we separate? Move to a different deck?" Piper asks.

"I don't know." I take a swig of my cocktail. "I need a minute to think." _I wish the wanna be Frank Sinatra singer would shut the fuck up!_

"Maybe I can help. What does he look like?"

"He's probably the only black man on the boat," I reply, turning my back even more away from the room. "Average height, cropped hair that's graying on the sides. He's wearing a red sweater and gray blazer."

She scans the space. "There's literally no person of color in the room. I'm going to take a spin around to see if I can find him, and maybe that'll help us decide what we should do or where we should go."

I consider stopping her, but what's the use at this point? Barry has either seen us together and knows we're a couple or he hasn't. There's very little chance he knows who Piper is in the context of Mounthaven—she doesn't teach his daughter, nor has she been to a meeting or social event where Barry was present. Well, maybe he was at the Fall Festival, but if Piper doesn't know who he is or what he looks like, chances are, they've never met.

I sit on a stool at the far end of the room, splitting headache diminishing a bit, which is ironic since I just pounded my drink. The band takes a break, and I'm thankful that I can sit in a moment of somewhat silence until Piper returns.

"I think I found him." She grabs my arm, tugging me towards the bar at the front of the boat and points out the window. "Down there on the left."

There's a skylight in the ceiling above the main deck, and sure enough, Barry is there canoodling with a woman in a lowcut, sequined gown.

"I don't believe it." I squint.

The blonde bombshell he's with laughs, extending her neck and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Is that his wife?" Piper asks.

"It most certainly is _not_ his wife." When I've seen all I care to see, I turn around, leaning my back against the wall. "No wonder he asked me to keep our meeting a secret."

"I thought he only asked if you were on a secret rendezvous?"

"I alluded to coming to Lake George to get away from the Mounthaven community, and I told him I was here with a friend," I say. "And he said my secret was safe with him and hoped it would be mutual."

She perks up as if she's solved a puzzle. "Do you think he's having an affair?"

"It certainly looks that way."

"Are you going to do anything about it?" she asks.

"No. No, I'm not. I just want to forget about the whole thing." I kiss her hand. "Help me forget."

Piper grins. "I can do that."

It takes a solid 30 minutes before I can relax, but eventually I do, and that has everything to do with Piper. She tells me a story about her senior prom on a riverboat that has her in stitches, which, of course, makes me laugh. Then she amuses me with trivia about paddlewheel boats. Finally, she pulls me onto the dance floor when the band comes back on and sings _Cheek to Cheek_. That song gives way to _A Sunday Kind of Love_ , and we dance closer—my fingertips resting on the curve of her butt; Piper's hand cupping the back of my neck. I close my eyes and breathe in the soothing scent of her.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"For what?" she pulls back a little.

I smile. "For making me forget."

She kisses me, and then settles into the crook of my neck. "Anytime."

We make it off the paddlewheel boat a few minutes later, sight unseen.

* * *

It's cold in the cabin when we return, so I build a fire while Piper makes hot apple cider. We eat leftover pie and cuddle on the sofa, watching the flames grow higher.

I extend my legs next to hers on the coffee table. "Tonight was a close call."

"It was." She holds my hand. "What would you have done if Barry told you he saw us together?"

I shake my head in small bursts. "I have no idea."

"My dad used to play the _Worst Case Scenario_ game with me," she replies. "Wanna try?"

I agree to Piper's silly game, but I don't think it'll make things better or solve anything.

"Ok, what would be the worst thing that could happen if Barry saw us?"

"He'd tell Louisa everything," I explain.

"Then what?"

"She'd probably ask to meet first thing Monday morning."

Piper nods, so I continue. "She'd fill me in on what Barry told her, and I'd lose my job."

"You don't think Louisa would want to hear your side of the story?"

I nudge my glasses. "Maybe."

"What would you tell her?"

"I'd tell the truth." I raise my shoulders. "That you and I have a…a connection, and we've been seeing each other for a couple months." I pause. "I'd say that this is more than a dalliance or a fling—I'd tell her we're falling in love."

A proud little grin appears on her face. "You'd say that?"

"Yeah."

Piper squeezes my hand, seemingly pleased with my answer. "Go on."

"That's when she'd fire me," I deadpan.

"And you'd get a job some place else?"

I shrug. "Eventually, yeah. I'd probably have to move."

She takes a sip of apple cider. "Ok, so that's your worst case scenario."

I roll my eyes. "That was an uplifting exercise."

"There's nothing uplifting about expecting the worst, but at least you can imagine what that would look like and prepare for it." She blows on the hot cider. "Now, tell me the best case scenario if Barry saw us."

"Best case is that he doesn't tell anyone," I respond.

"Agreed, but let's do best case if he _does_ tell someone."

"Ok." I let out a long breath. "He tells Louisa about it, she asks to meet with me, and she listens to my side of the story."

She nods.

"Maybe she tells me we can't help who we fall in love with," I begin, wracking my brain for best case scenarios. "And she suggests that you report to Brent like you always have, but instead of having _me_ observe your classes or write your formal evaluation, she steps into that role, leaving me out of the equation."

"That would be good."

I rub her thigh. "It would."

"So, now you have the best and worst case scenarios." Piper shrugs. "If Barry actually saw us and can identify me, and he doesn't keep the secret that he told you he would, the most likely consequence will be something in between."

I contemplate her logic. "I guess you're right."

"If you look at it from that perspective, it's not going to be earth shatteringly bad."

I kiss her temple. "Let's just hope Barry didn't see anything, and if he did, he keeps his mouth shut."

"Exactly."

We hold hands in front of the fireplace for another 10 minutes in silence. I'd love to know what Piper is thinking, but I'm consumed with my own thoughts of what _something in between_ would look like. I'm also in awe of the woman next to me. How can a 21-year-old be so reasonable, compassionate and smart? From what she's shared with me, her parents are a little fucked up, but they did something right when they raised Piper.

"Ready to go to sleep?" I turn to see her head on my shoulder, mouth open and breathing steadily. "Piper?"

"Mmm?" She doesn't open her eyes.

"Come on." I lift her and grunt—she's not as light as I thought she'd be. I set her down in the bed, take off her socks (I know she doesn't like sleeping in them), and then pull the covers up to her shoulders. I strip down to my underwear and toss on a pajama top before crawling next to her.

"I love you," I whisper, and then fall fast asleep.

* * *

The next day, Piper insists upon making a snowman and snow angels. I agree, but with the caveat that as soon as we're finished, we take advantage of the Jacuzzi tub in our bathroom. It's unfathomable that we haven't used it yet, especially because Piper told me about her love of baths.

We laugh and joke around as we build the snowman with the fresh snow that fell overnight. It's totally lopsided, and when Piper puts a stick in the side as an arm, the top half falls over. We give up on the snowman in favor of a hot bath (she quickly makes a snow angel; I take a picture). The Jacuzzi experience is everything I hoped it would be, including messing around underwater. We don't have sex in the tub, but she goes down on me as my legs dangle in the water.

After our bath, we take a nap, and then raid the game closet. We play a couple rounds of Yahtzee followed by asking each other Trivial Pursuit questions. Instead of using the pieces of the game, we just use the cards to try stumping each other. Piper keeps score and ends up beating me by one point with the question: _Which two South American countries do not touch the sea_? I answered Bolivia and Uruguay, but the correct answer is Bolivia and Paraguay.

Piper didn't rub the victory in as much as I thought she would, but she _does_ get a prize, which involves a massage. I'm not sure who gets the better end of that stick: Piper for getting rubbed down or me for getting to touch her naked body. That inevitably led to sex, this time with me fucking her from behind.

That evening, we drink the last bottle of wine and snack on our leftovers from Thanksgiving.

"I have another game we could play," Piper says around the last of the turkey.

I swallow the sweet potato casserole. "Ok."

"We each get a turn picking a year and a season, and we tell each other something that happened in our lives at that time."

I finish everything on my plate, and then put it in the dishwasher. "Sounds interesting."

"I'll choose fall 2002."

"The way back time machine." I plop on the sofa. "Hmmm…I was 19 and in my first year of college."

Piper giggles.

I give her a hard time. "Did you want to play this game to expose our age difference?"

She tamps down her laughter and shrugs. "That's just a natural consequence."

I throw a pillow at her.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're old!"

"Old enough to give you multiple orgasms," I retort.

She saunters over and kisses me from behind the sofa. "I don't think that has anything to do with age, but I'm willing to pretend it does."

I pull her over the top of the sofa until she's sitting next to me. Damn, she's flexible.

"On with the game."

"Ok, let's see…" I hook an arm around her. "I was finishing my first semester of college and preparing to take finals in _Biology 101_ and _Human Behavior_ ," I begin. "I didn't have finals in my other classes."

"What were they?"

"Statistics, which bored the hell out of me, and a philosophy class called _Introduction to Symbolic Logic_ , which was really good."

"I've enjoyed the two philosophy classes I've taken."

I sip my wine. "Which were?"

"The first was just an intro class, but last year I took _Existentialist Metaphysics_. It blew my mind."

"Mmm. That whole 'what is the understanding of human existence' stuff is deep. I took a similar class in graduate school, but it was specifically geared towards Heidegger and Sartre."

This leads us down a path of discussing interesting college courses for the next 30 minutes until I bring us back to the game at hand. "What were you doing in fall 2002?"

"I hate to tell you this, but I was the ripe age of five," she admits with a grin. "And I'd just started kindergarten."

"Fuck you," I say playfully. "We really are light years apart."

"None of that matters when you're an adult," Piper replies. "Other than when we bring it up, do you sense our age difference?"

I shake my head. "Never."

"Good." She smiles. "I remember my dad dropping me off on the first day of school, and I tried to hold in my tears, but I just couldn't. I got inside the classroom, made sure the door was shut, and then I bawled."

I squeeze her hand. "You were probably adorable."

"I'm sure I was as cute as your average five-year-old."

We end up talking about our memories from grade school for the next few minutes, and just like every other conversation, we could talk for hours. We've always had a give-and-take relationship, and that continues to ring true. The more I learn about Piper, the more I love her—even the Piper that existed before she came into my life. Her stories about childhood endear her even more to me.

We don't go to sleep until well after midnight, both sad that our trip is coming to an end, but glad we got to experience it.


	11. Chapter 11

While Piper and I were chatty during the beginning of our drive back to Northampton, by the time we get an hour outside of town, silence descends upon us. The closer we get to home, the more my heart sinks as I know we have to return to normal tomorrow. Normal for us means hiding our relationship and being extra careful when we choose to spend time together. Judging from the look on Piper's face, she's thinking the same thing.

"You ok?" I ask.

"Not really." She looks out the window. "I don't want to go back to pretending we aren't a couple."

"Neither do I," I admit. "It sucks, but there's nothing we can do about it."

She continues looking away; I grab her hand.

"I'd love to spend a Friday or Saturday night with you, but weekdays will be tough," I continue pouring salt in the wound, hating every bit of it. "Every other week, we could hang out on a random Tuesday or Wednesday; maybe you could spend the night."

"I get it, Alex—all of it." She finally looks at me with gloomy eyes. "You don't have to remind me about how hard this will be. I'm not going to change my mind about wanting to be in a relationship with you."

"I'm not trying to change your mind," I say almost before she finishes her sentence. "I want to be with you, too; nothing I've said changes that."

She's gone from sad to angry. "But we have all these _rules_ we have to follow?"

"They're not rules—they're…guidelines to protect us." I take a deep breath. "Look, if we were in different circumstances, I'd probably order the U-Haul, but we can't change our predicament. There's no use in trying."

She stares at our joined hands in her lap. "I know, but it doesn't make it any easier."

"It's not going to be easy, but time flies, you know? Here we are, Thanksgiving behind us and four weeks until Christmas." I release her hand as I turn onto Smith's campus. "Would you be interested in spending part of the holiday together?"

"I'd like that." A smile gradually surfaces. "I'm sorry I blew up."

"I'd hardly call that blowing up, and it's ok—I suspect both of us will have outwardly frustrating moments. Today was your turn. I'm sure mine is just around the corner."

Her face softens. "Thanks."

"Where's your dorm?"

"We have houses, not dorms," she says. "Just follow the road past the pond, and it'll bend in front of Morris House."

"I've never been to your room."

"Wanna come up? I have a single."

"Not today, but I promise I will soon." I pull in front of the Morris House sign. "Thank you for such an amazing Thanksgiving holiday."

She leans over for a kiss. "Thank you, too. I loved every second of it."

"Me, too." I pull away, hand lingering on her cheek. "I'll call you later tonight."

Piper nods. "Ok." She grabs her bag and two others with leftover ingredients, and then shuts the car door. "Talk to you later."

I issue my best smile, and then drive away, heart now resting somewhere near my ankles. I hate the position we're in. I wish I had a time machine to fast forward a year from now—hell, even six months from now. I'll allow myself one night of sulking, and then I'll focus on planning a Christmas trip. That anticipation will have to suffice for now.

* * *

The next two weeks fly by, and Piper and I spend the weekends together. I was hoping we'd be ok with just spending Saturday nights together, but that didn't exactly work out. (Our Friday evening texts: Me: _I miss you_. Piper: _I miss you, too_. Me: _Come over_. Piper: _I thought we weren't supposed to do that?_ Me: _Come over_. Piper: _Twist my arm_. Me: _Arm twisting, is that what you're into?_ Piper: _Be there in 15 min_.)

We spend time on those weekends planning our Christmas trip to San Diego, and we do school work for part of those weekends. Piper has essays and tests to grade and I have meeting summaries to type up in addition to my Board presentation on the Wednesday before Christmas Break. We have another lengthy discussion about curriculum development, and once again, I admire Piper's zest for teaching and learning.

In the back of my mind, I worry about seeing Barry, our Board of Trustees chairman, on Wednesday. This will be our first encounter after running into each other on the Lake George cruise, and I don't know what to expect. Piper knows I have to give a presentation to the Board, but she hasn't mentioned the significance. I let it slide, wondering if she forgot about Barry's position of power or if she simply doesn't want to acknowledge it.

That Wednesday afternoon, I head over to the meeting room, prepared to face the man who could bring me down.

"Hi, Gail," I greet a Board member who I've known for the past three years with a hug. "Good to see you."

I make small talk with others in the room, and then I see Barry walk in. My pulse increases as he heads my way.

"Good afternoon, Alex." He shakes my hand. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks." I try to act as if all is well. "I'm ready for Christmas. You?"

"Things have been better," he replies with a huff. "Crystal and I are getting divorced."

Fuck, does that mean all bets are off and he intends to bust me?

"I'm so sorry." I place a hand on his elbow. "It must be a difficult time for you and your family."

"The kids are adjusting well enough," he says. "But it _is_ a difficult time."

"I bet." I don't know what else to say. I desperately want to ask him what he knows about my relationship, but there's no way I can get away with that. "Anything I can do?"

"No, but I do have a bit of advice." He leans closer, maintaining eye contact. "Live an authentic life, Alex, and everything will work out."

 _He knows_.

I swallow hard and nod.

He turns to the room, tapping a spoon against his glass to call everyone's attention. "Please, everyone, take your seats so we can begin."

Thank God I'm presenting at the end of the meeting, because the first half, all I can think about is Barry telling me to live an authentic life. I don't know if he knows that Piper is a student teacher at Mounthaven. Perhaps he just saw me on the boat with _another woman_ , and he's referring to me not being out of the closet. The thing is, I am out, but not _out_ out, and I don't know if he knows about my sexual orientation. I have never hidden the fact that I'm gay, but I don't openly talk about it or have rainbow stickers on my car or in my office. The closest thing I have is a "Safe Space" sign outside my door.

"Alex, do you have a report for us?"

He stirs me from my musings. "Yes, thank you."

I stand, pressing my hands firmly against my skirt to tame the wrinkles and calm my nerves, which have nothing to do with the presentation I'm about to give. I know this report backwards and forward.

"Thank you for allowing me to present the _State of the Upper School_ to you all today. Let's begin with full-time enrollment." I spend the next 30 minutes, presenting the annual report and the last ten minutes answering questions.

"We'll move into executive session now, so those of you who aren't part of that group, thank you for your time. You're dismissed," Barry says.

I walk out with our director of finance and Louisa, the head of school.

"Great job in there," Louisa says.

"Thanks." I follow her out the main door. "There may be something I'll need to speak with you about after winter break."

She glances up at me. "You sure it can wait?"

"Positive." I give her a tight smile. "Going anywhere fun for Christmas?"

"No, we're staying local. Charlie's back from college, so it'll be nice to do something low key," she replies. "What about you?"

"San Diego," I respond. "Getting away for about a week."

"Should be warm and sunny there." She stops before peeling off in the other direction. "Well, if I don't see you in the next two days, enjoy your much deserved time off."

"I will."

It's clear that Louisa knows nothing, and if Barry was going to divulge my secret, he would've done it already.

As soon as I'm in the car, I call Piper.

"Hi, how was it?"

"Fine…maybe even good, actually." I turn out of the parking lot.

"Was Barry there?"

I grin. "So, you _did_ remember."

"Of course I did," she responds. "I just didn't want to bring it up in case it would've made you nervous or self-conscious."

"Thank you."

"Tell me everything."

I relay my conversation with Barry to her, and Piper seems as pleased and surprised as I am.

"Maybe I should put myself in a position to meet him after break, and that's how we'll know if he recognizes me," she offers.

"Are you crazy? The last thing I want is for him to recognize you! Avoid him at all costs, Piper."

"Alright," she sighs. "So what's the next step?"

"As we were walking out I told Louisa I might want to speak with her after break." I wait for Piper's reaction.

"What would you meet with her about?"

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Guess."

"I thought the whole idea was to avoid talking to Louisa about our relationship?"

I turn down Green Street. "What if we have a plan?"

"Go on."

"It would be better if we talked in person." I pull into a parking spot. "I'm at your house."

"What?" I hear what sounds like a chair scraping against the floor.

"Just pulled up. Will you let me in?"

I glance up and see Piper standing in a second floor window. "Yes, bye."

She's almost out of breath by the time she reaches the front door. "Hi! I'm surprised to see you here."

She has on an oversized sweatshirt, hanging over one shoulder and baggy sweatpants. Her hair is tied in a messy ponytail at the top of her head, and a pencil rests behind her ear.

I reach out to touch her shirt. "Don't you look all college girl."

She pulls me inside and wraps her arms around my neck, arching up for a kiss. "Seeing as how I _am_ a college girl, that shouldn't come as a shock to you."

"It shouldn't, but it is." I'm more than a little turned on. "Where's your room?"

She pushes back, taking my hand and leading me upstairs.

"Not bad," I reply, taking in the small, violet painted room.

"I've lived in this room for two years," she says, lowering the volume on Vivaldi. "At Smith, students are loyal to their houses—that's sort of the thing—so I've lived in Morris all four years, just in different rooms my first and second years."

"Nice." I pick up a photograph. "Is this your whole family?" I've seen pictures of her brothers and her parents, but not all together.

She nods. "It's old—summer after my junior year of high school. We were in the Bahamas."

"You were tan…and young, which is saying something because you're pretty fucking young now." I chuckle.

She gathers the books that were lying on her bed and stacks them on the floor. "I'd just turned 17."

I put that photo down and pick up another one. "Is this Polly?"

She nods. "I think I mentioned that she goes to U Conn, so we don't see each other as often as I'd like."

Again, I put that one down and see a stack of photos on top of her mini-fridge.

Piper quickly steps between me and the fridge. "You're not supposed to see those."

"Why not?" I let out a little laugh.

She looks deflated. "Because one of them is going to be your Christmas gift."

"I ruined the surprise. Sorry." I hold her hands. "Now that I know what my gift will be, can I look at them?"

She twists her mouth in the most adorable way as she contemplates the question.

"All the pictures we took in Lake George are on your phone. I have no photographic evidence that we're a couple," I plead. "Even then, I have no way of knowing if we're a _cute_ couple."

That makes her smile. "Let me put your mind at ease: we are a _beautiful_ couple." She hands me the stack of five pictures, and then pulls me towards her bed.

I sit on the edge of the flowery comforter.

"Ah, our lopsided snowman," I remark, recalling Piper taking a selfie before it collapsed. "Cute." I flip to the next one. "Nice kitchen shot. Look at the mess in the background."

"You're supposed to focus on the turkey and sweet potatoes in the foreground."

I kiss the side of her head. "I'd rather focus on us."

I flip to the next one. "That deck was amazing. I'm glad you took this picture when the sun was shining and you can see the lake."

"That's my second favorite."

"I look all sloppy with my shirt half-tucked and my hair blowing in the breeze."

"I think you look good." She turns to the next photo. "This was the obligatory boarding the paddlewheel boat shot. Not my fave."

"You look hot," I comment. I flip to the last picture. It's the one the woman took for us on the boat deck with the sunset. I stare at it for a moment, taken aback by the beauty of it and the smiles on our faces. "Wow."

"I know."

"This is stunning."

"Proof that we're a beautiful couple," she replies.

"We are." I kiss her nose, and then return my gaze to the photo. "It would be obvious to anyone around us that we're in love."

"Yeah," she whispers, taking the pictures from me and placing one hand on my cheek.

We kiss softly, quietly, and I _feel_ her love.

"That brings us to today," I say.

"Yes, and the plan you alluded to on the phone."

I sit against the wall, and Piper climbs onto my lap.

"Before I begin, I want to reiterate that these are _options_ —I'm not saying we'll go through with either of them, but I want to at least discuss them."

"Ok."

"One involves me more directly and the other involves you," I say.

She nods, waiting for me to get on with the plan.

"Option one is I ask Louisa if I can take a sabbatical second semester," I offer.

She adjusts on my lap. "A sabbatical?"

"Yeah, teachers do it every once in a while," I start. "I'd tell her about us, and then I'd ask to take an unpaid leave of absence. We could tell the public that I'm developing the curriculum further, and I have so much research to do that I need time away from school."

"I guess that could work." She troubles her lip. "Do you think Louisa would go for it?"

"I think she wants to keep me, so if taking a sabbatical would allow me to still work at Mounthaven and have a relationship with you, she'd probably consider it."

"Hmm." Piper doesn't seem settled on that point. "What's the other option?"

"That you'd get reassigned second semester."

"Teach at a different school?"

I nod.

"That could work." Piper sits a little straighter. "That's actually a brilliant idea. In fact, my year-long stint at Mounthaven is rare. I only agreed to it because Brent was looking for a full-time teacher to cover for Libby White after she retired."

"She _did_ put us in a bind," I admit. "What do you think Dr. Bogan would say?"

She shrugs. "He might wonder what happened to change my mind, but as long as I had a good review and I asked for reassignment in early January, I think it would work." Piper gets off my lap and stands. "I could tell him I wanted to try my hand at an English position or to try out a charter school. There's that new one that opened in Kent."

"Only if you were ok with that decision. I don't want to put you in an awkward pos—"

"It's perfect," she interrupts. "Why didn't we think of this sooner?"

"Sex brain?" I offer.

"No, that can't be it, because I still have sex brain." She pulls my legs until my ass reaches the edge of the bed and devours my mouth. "Speaking of that, I'd really, _really_ like to fuck you in my dorm room."

I grin against her mouth. "I thought they weren't called dorm rooms."

"Shut up."


	12. Chapter 12

On Christmas morning, I wake up next to Piper with a smile on my face.

We left the windows open last night, and the linen curtains gently blow like ghosts in the wind as the salty air fills the room. The sun hasn't fully risen, but the chirp of birds signals it'll happen soon. There's been a seagull with one leg who has decided to perch on the balcony each morning, and today is no different. I blame Piper for feeding him breadcrusts the first day. His call is far less appealing than the cooing doves, but I feel bad for the big guy, so I promise him biscuit scraps after breakfast.

Piper rolls over, hair splayed like a golden octopus across the pillow. "Morning."

"Good morning." I toss an arm over her side.

She leans in for a kiss. "Is it Christmas?"

"It is." I return the kiss. "Doesn't feel like it out there."

"Mmm, I'll take this San Diego weather any day." Her fingertips skim my cheek. "Merry Christmas, Al."

I smile. "Merry Christmas, babe."

She sits up abruptly like she suddenly realizes what happens on Christmas morning. "Can we open presents?"

" _Presents_ as in plural? I only got you one."

She's already out of bed, digging through the bottom dresser drawer. "One is enough. I just happened to get you two since you blew the surprise of my original gift."

I throw on a t-shirt and some thin shorts as I watch her nakedly rooting through another drawer. "Do you want to put something on before we do this?"

"Oh." She opens another drawer— _my drawer_ —and pulls out my Obama campaign t-shirt.

"Didn't you bring your own clothing?" I complain, secretly loving that she prefers to wear my clothes.

"Yours are way more fun." Piper dashes into the living room of our hotel suite. "I'll make coffee."

I run a toothbrush over my teeth before joining her with my small giftwrapped present.

"Ready?" She sits next to me with an eager expression. "Open this one first."

I open the rectangular box to see a framed picture of us. It's the one from the paddlewheel boat where we look completely in love. "It's perfect. Thank you so much."

"I think so, too."

I kiss her. "I'll put it on my mantle first thing when I get home."

"Good." She smiles. "Here's the other one."

"You don't want to open yours?"

She hands me another wrapped gift. "Not yet."

I rip through the green wrapping paper to find a candle.

"You always say you like the way I smell, and the perfume and lotion that I use came out with a line of candles this year," she begins. "Now, if I'm not with you, all you have to do is light this to smell my presence."

I take in a big whiff. "This is insane—it smells exactly like you."

She leans over and sniffs it. "Do you like it?"

I pull her in for a hug. "I would _much_ rather have you around than have to resort to a candle, but this will do."

"I'm glad." She gives me a lingering kiss.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I bend down to get the small box. "Ready for your gift?"

She nods, and no sooner do I hand her the perfectly wrapped gift than she's tearing into it. She pulls out the box and opens it, removing the thin, gold band that forms a shallow V on top. "It's beautiful."

"I saw you admiring it at that jewelry shop in Lake George," I say. "When you went to get the peanut butter fudge, which was delicious by the way, I bought it for you."

"Quite the sly one, aren't you? It fits perfectly." She slips it on her thumb. "It might not be the ring I'd hoped for, but still, I love it."

My heart flutters. "We haven't really talked about _that_ kind of ring, so…"

"Should we?" She blinks up at me. "Talk about it, I mean."

I lift my shoulders. "Sure. I guess."

Both of us remain silent for half a minute, and then fill the air with awkward laughter.

"Do you want to start?" I ask with unevenness in my voice. I didn't think I'd be this nervous to discuss marriage.

"Ok…" She composes herself like she's about to give a speech. "I realize we've only been together for a few months, but I think this could be something that lasts," Piper says.

I can't help feeling elated. "So do I."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I reply through laughter.

Before I know it, Piper envelopes me in a hug. I kiss whatever my lips can reach, which happens to be the top of her ear.

"It's not going to happen immediately because of our jobs and stuff, but after things get settled, I'd like to explore it more," I offer.

"Marriage," she states as a point of clarification. "We are talking about the same thing, right?"

"Yes." I pull back, silly grin on my face, and join our hands in my lap. "Would you want it to be a surprise when I ask?"

"I think so. Are you ok with you being the one who proposes?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Unless you want to do it."

"No." She shakes her head. "I want you to. You can even choose the ring."

I look down at her thumb ring. "I hope this one will do for now."

"It will." She kisses me. "I love it."

We spend the entire day, lazing around the suite, making love multiple times and basking in the glow of our not quite engagement.

The following few days, we take advantage of the warm weather and spend time at the beach. (I should note that the first time Piper put on a bikini, we didn't leave the hotel for an hour, and even then, every time I looked at her laying out by the pool, I got wet.)

We end up taking surf lessons the day before we leave, and Piper's a natural; I'm decent, but balance isn't my forte. We enjoy authentic Mexican food, and Piper vows to make authentic _pozole_ when we return.

All-in-all, it was a wonderful trip that only solidified my desire to spend my life with Piper. Now, it's a matter of getting to a point where that's possible.

* * *

We still have five days left before having to return to school after Christmas Break, and Piper and I spend much of it together. The hard part is not being able to enjoy each other's company in public. We agree that would be a recipe for disaster and we're so close to coming out on the other side of this.

We return to school on January 3, and everyone seems to have a post-holiday hangover. There's so much joy over the holidays, not to mention getting a full two weeks off, so to return in the cold, dark month of January is a bummer for just about every teacher and student. Despite this, Piper and I agree to move forward with the plan for her to transfer schools starting second semester. She can't put the wheels in motion until Smith opens after winter break, but she requests a meeting with Dr. Bogan as soon as possible in hopes of it not being too late for a transfer. She updates her resume and cover letter, getting them ready for delivery the moment Dr. Bogan gives the thumbs up.

We also agree that we should inform Louisa about why Piper is making the move. Not only does Louisa deserve the professional courtesy, but we also want to be out as soon as possible. If Louisa found out through the grapevine about our relationship, that might taint the way she views me. Besides, Piper might eventually want to apply for a permanent position at Mounthaven—she can't very well have the head of school questioning her ethical standards.

I convince Piper to allow me to meet with Louisa first, and then Piper can arrange a separate meeting later that week. (She wanted to inform Louisa together, but I didn't think that was a wise move.) So, on January 6 at 4 p.m. I meet with the head.

"How was San Diego?" she asks, ushering me to the seat I always occupy when I'm in her office.

"You remembered," I reply. "It was fantastic—warm, blue skies, authentic Mexican food—everything I could ask for. How was your holiday?"

"More cooking than relaxing, but it was still great." She smiles. "It was nice having my youngest home from college."

"How has he enjoyed his first semester at Haverford?"

"Loves it. I keep telling him he's going to end up being an education major," she replies. "He rolls his eyes and tells me 'in your dreams, mom'."

"You never know."

"True." She pushes her laptop aside and cups her hands. "So, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"It's about Piper Chapman, our student teacher from Smith," I begin, feeling my heart race.

"The history teacher?"

"Yes." I purse my lips, suddenly feeling a lack of saliva in my mouth. "She's decided to transfer to another school for second semester."

She seems surprised. "Sorry to hear that. From what I've heard, she's been a fantastic teacher."

"Brent will be disappointed to see her go," I offer with a nod.

She jots down a note. "So we'll need to hire someone in the next three weeks?"

"I'll work with Brent on that." I uncross my legs and sit a little taller. "The reason I've shared that news with you is because of the _reason_ Piper is leaving."

She looks up from her notepad. "Something I should be concerned about?"

"No, not really." My mouth is so dry that I pull a water bottle out of my bag and take a sip. "I'm…we're…"

"Yes?"

"Piper and I are in a relationship."

Her eyes widen like saucers.

"No one knows—we've kept it a secret since it started in October." I feel a sense of relief wash over me, but by no means do I feel settled. "I didn't intend for this to happen, but it did, and it's more than just a fling."

"I see." She removes her glasses. "Isn't Piper still in college? She'd have to be if she's student teaching."

"Yes, she's 21. Young, I know, but she's far more mature than her age," I try. "I wouldn't be with someone who wasn't."

"I must admit, I'm shocked at this development." Louisa sits back. "I wouldn't expect something like this from you."

"I wouldn't expect it of me, either." I look at my lap, and then back at her. "But as unlikely as it is, it happened, and I'm…I'm in love with her."

A sound akin to laughter escapes as if that was the last thing Louisa expected me to admit. "Well, then…"

"Again, no one knows about this, and we intend to keep it that way as long as we're both at Mounthaven." I take another sip of water, mouth still parched. "The other option was for me to ask for a second semester sabbatical."

"I need you here too much for that," she responds. "So, let me see if I understand: you've been in a relationship with Piper since October, you've subsequently fallen in love, and now she's leaving Mounthaven so the two of you can be together?"

The tension in my shoulders increases as I feel like I'm waiting for the verdict at the end of a trial. "That's correct."

She nods methodically like she's still trying to wrap her brain around this bomb I just dropped. "I don't approve of you cavorting with one of your subordinates, especially a student teacher." She seems to wait for my acknowledgement.

"Technically, she reports to Brent, so…"

"You've formally observed her, right?" She doesn't wait for my response. "And you're the one who has to write her final evaluation for Smith College. Every teacher in the upper school is considered your subordinate. Do you have a rebuttal to that line of logic?"

"No." I try to maintain eye contact.

"From here on out, you won't observe her in the classroom or have any contact with Piper unless it's in a group setting like faculty meetings."

I nod.

"Does Brent know about this?"

"Not yet."

"We'll meet with him tomorrow." She slides her glasses back on and writes something on her notepad. "It would probably be best to keep your distance from Piper until she's gone."

"I know."

"Other than Brent, I don't think anyone else needs to know about this," she sighs. "But if it somehow gets leaked, I'll be forced to deal with the matter and neither of us would appreciate the consequences."

I nod.

She glances up at me. "Don't be careless."

"I won't." I swallow hard. "I don't take this lightly, Louisa. My job matters a great deal to me—this community means a great deal to me."

"You matter to us—to me," she says. "Don't fuck that up."

I've never heard Louisa curse, but that little dash of humanity makes me smile.

"I _am_ happy you've found someone, Alex. I just wish it wasn't a Mounthaven teacher." She stands. "Perhaps after the dust settles, I'll be able to congratulate you. Until then, keep it quiet and keep it clean."

"I will." I stand. "Thank you for your time."

I walk out of her office feeling one part happy to get it off my chest, and the other part feeling like I've disappointed my boss. My first instinct is to go to Piper's house, but Louisa's warning rings in my ear. Instead, I call.

"How did it go?" she asks without pretense.

"It wasn't fun," I sigh. "Louisa was all business."

"She didn't fire you though, right?"

"No, but she inferred that if it comes out, she'll probably have to," I reply.

"We figured that."

"Yeah." I get into my car and relay the whole conversation to Piper. "All that to say, we can't see each other anytime soon."

"What about on weekends? We've been so careful."

"Piper, if you care about my career, you won't force the issue," I say severely. "Please don't make me have to defend my position on this."

She remains silent.

"I want to be with you, but we just _can't_ right now. It's a small sacrifice for a limited amount of time."

"I know," she says meekly. "But I don't have to like it."

"I don't like it either. Three weeks will fly by, and then we'll be free to be a couple wherever we go."

"Even if we waited until spring to go out in public, when people associated with Mounthaven see us together, they're going to have questions," she protests.

"They might, but we don't owe them answers."

"What if they ask?"

"Do you really think someone is bold enough to ask if we were seeing each other while you were doing your student teaching? I don't think most people have the balls to ask that."

"Maybe you're right, but we need to be prepared," she says. "And if they aren't brave enough to ask, the stares we'll get will be enough to know what they're thinking."

"That's not our immediate concern," I respond. "We need to worry about the next three weeks and keeping a low profile. We also need to think about your job placement. Have you touched base with Dr. Bogan?"

"We have a meeting next week."

"Did you e-mail him what it's about?" I turn down my street.

"Yes."

"Has he replied?"

"No."

"Alright." This whole thing makes me anxious. "I'm about to pull into my driveway. Can I call you later?"

"Sure."

I hang up, pull into my driveway and exhale loudly. This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you again for the lovely reviews!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The next morning, Louisa and I meet with Brent who is even more shocked by the news than Louisa was.

"Piper is 21!" he exclaims.

I shake my head. "Why is everyone so fixated on her age?"

"Because you're 20 years older than her," he replies as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

I nudge my glasses. "Fourteen actually."

"What do you mean, _everyone_?" Louisa asks.

"I just meant the two of you." I refrain from the eye roll that desperately wants to surface. "No one else knows about us… _still_."

"Let's keep it that way."

Louisa wraps up the meeting, telling Brent to basically keep his mouth shut, and he agrees.

"Even with all this, I hate to lose Piper."

"It would mean a lot to hear you say that to her," I say.

"Can I talk to her about all this?" he asks.

We both turn to Louisa.

"I wouldn't make a habit of bringing it up, but if you want to have one conversation to ensure we're all on the same page, that's fine."

"She might ask me to be a reference," he says.

"You can provide that if you feel it's well-deserved."

"It is." He redirects his attention to me. "So you won't do any more class observations or write her final eval?"

Before I have a chance to respond, Louisa chimes in. "Alex should have nothing to do with Piper from here on out. You'll do any remaining observations and write your final evaluation during her last week at Mounthaven, which will be January 20. If you need Alex for anything related to Piper's student teaching position, you come to me. Understood?"

Brent nods.

"That's all for now."

We both stand and make our way out of her office.

"I didn't suspect anything between the two of you," Brent offers as we walk down the hall. "This is a total shock."

I give him a humble, half-smile. "I hate to say I'm glad, but I am."

"For what it's worth, I can see the attraction to Piper. She might be young, but she's mature beyond her years."

As we arrive at the parking lot, I squeeze his arm. "Thanks for that."

"I'll keep this whole thing to myself."

"Thank you."

He walks to his car. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

I'm glad that's over so I can concentrate on my job and help Piper navigate her end of things.

* * *

The following Wednesday, Piper meets with Dr. Bogan, who seems surprised by her transfer request, but she frames it as wanting a different experience before deciding what kind of school she'd like to teach at next fall. He doesn't have answers for her at the moment but promises to reach out to a few principals by the end of the week.

That gives her literally one week to secure a new placement. In our nightly conversations, I can sense Piper's anxiety.

"I don't know what I'm going to do if I'm not placed," she says over the phone.

"Can you still graduate on time?"

"Technically, yes, but I won't have enough credits to be considered full-time," she answers.

"Is that a problem?"

"I read the conditions of my scholarship this afternoon, and it clearly states that I have to be enrolled full-time in order to receive merit aid."

"How much are we talking? Five, ten thousand?"

"Twenty-thousand dollars a year."

"Holy shit." I nearly spit out my beer. "If it comes down to it, I can help cover some of it."

"I wouldn't ask you to do that." She sounds deflated.

"I have faith in you, Piper. You're an excellent teacher—Dr. Bogan knows that. I'm confident he'll find something for you."

"I hope so."

I walk to my mantle and pick up the candle Piper gave me for Christmas, which is next to our framed picture. "I'm smelling the candle right now."

I can almost hear her smile. "You are?"

"Yeah." I take a big sniff. "God, I miss being with you."

"I do, too." I hear someone calling for her. "I have to go. I promised my friends I'd go out with them tonight."

"Have fun."

"I'll text you when I'm home."

"Ok, bye."

* * *

The next morning at school, I hear Piper's familiar footsteps down the hallway at 7:15 a.m. "Piper, is that you?"

The steps get closer. She peeks inside the vestibule.

"Hey." I smile. "How was last night?" (She left a message for me when she got home, but I had long since gone to sleep.)

She steps more fully into Peggy's portion of the office, and Oh. My. God. She looks like a pinup model—curly hair, makeup, black cigarette pants and a thin blouse with a flouncy sweater over it. The way she's dressed is perfectly appropriate for school, but I'm just not accustomed to her looking so…dolled up.

I drop my pen. "Are you coming to school or going out on the town?"

She shrugs. "I felt like dressing up today."

My mouth hangs open as I take in all her curves.

"My grandma used to say we should dress how we want to feel, and in time, we'll feel as good as we look."

I take a deep breath through my nose. "Then you should feel like a million bucks."

"Not yet, but maybe by the end of the day."

I flex my fingers—I desperately want to touch her. "I mean this in the most loving way: get the hell out of my office."

She smiles. "That didn't sound very loving."

I suck in my lips and shut my eyes. "Piper, I swear to God—"

"Ok, ok." She turns to walk out. "If you don't want to look at me today, stay away from room 208. I'm teaching in there all day."

"Got it."

When I know she's gone, I open my eyes and exhale the breath I was holding. Piper and I haven't had sex in 18 days—E-I-G-H-T-E-E-N days. Here I am at half past seven in the morning, and I have that image of her stained in my mind. It's going to be a long day, but if I have my way, phone sex is a necessity tonight, and not just any phone sex: FaceTime phone sex.

Somehow, I get through the day without making a fool out of myself when I see Piper, and I see her twice—once when I pass by her classroom and the door is wide open and another time in the faculty break room. I was going to grab a cup of coffee, but instead, I head down the hill to the middle school to get my daily caffeine fix. I know myself—if I'm so much as in the same room with her, I'm going to act like a buffoon or stare at her, and I can't have either.

I arrive home just after five o'clock, and as I'm slipping off my boots, my phone rings.

"I got a placement!" she shouts.

"What?!"

"Oh my God, I can't believe it!"

"Piper, that's amazing!" I smile so hard I'm laughing. "You know what, this is too big to give me details over the phone…" I hesitate for a mere second. "Come over."

She pauses. "Are you sure?"

"Positive—especially if you're still wearing the outfit you had on at school today."

I need to see her and hold her and tell her how proud of her I am in person...and, if I'm being honest, I need to fuck her senseless. One night won't break us; besides, in two days, she'll no longer work at Mounthaven.

Fifteen minutes later, Piper busts through the door. "Hi!"

I take her in my arms, lifting her off the ground. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks!" She kisses me soundly before moving to the living room.

I had a bottle of bubbly ready to pour as soon as she got here, so I fill two glasses and tuck my legs under myself on the sofa. "Tell me everything."

She remains standing, glass of La Marca in hand. "This morning Dr. Bogan told me that the charter school didn't have a spot for a student teacher, so I was expecting the worst."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew there was one other possible placement, and I didn't want you to stress about it."

I touch her thigh as she pauses in front of me. "You could've told me."

"I know, but this way is far better," she responds. "He called a little while ago to tell me the principal at Lander Academy wants me to start on Monday!"

I can't contain my joy. "That's awesome, babe!"

"It's a K through 8 school in South Hadley not far from Mount Holyoke. Their student teacher graduated in December, but they didn't hire anyone to take her place until now." She becomes more animated as she fills me in. "I'll teach eighth grade humanities."

"I thought you were getting your secondary ed certification?"

"I am, but they're still willing to take me." She sips her drink. "Dr. Bogan said it'll be a nice addition to my resume since I'll teach multiple disciplines."

"You're good with that?"

"I'm ecstatic!" She holds her arms out. "I've been toying with the idea of teaching English, so this will give me the chance to try it out. I know it's not high school, but eighth grade is close enough."

"It is." I reach for her hand. "I'm so proud of you, Pipes."

"Thank you." She sets her glass on the coffee table.

I pull her down, and her knee lands on the sofa cushion between my legs. This allows her to put her hands on the back of the sofa on either side of my head and lean in for a kiss. It's at that moment when I realize she's still dressed like she was earlier today, and my body tingles. I put my glass on the coffee table without disturbing our position, and then rest my hands on her ass. She kisses me in the most seductive, teasing way.

Her lips travel across my jawline. "I've missed you."

"Of all the types of sex we've had…" My hands snake under her shirt, and I quiver at the feel of her soft, warm skin. "I don't think we've had celebratory sex yet."

She licks and nips at my neck. "Is that different from regular sex?"

"Very." My voice drops an octave.

She straddles my lap. "How so?"

I kiss her again, taking my sweet time changing the angle. "It starts really slow."

"And ends with a bang like a champagne cork?" she guesses.

I grin against her mouth. "I didn't know how to make that not sound cheesy."

She lifts my shirt. "Let's just go back to missing each other and doing something about it."

"Agreed." I remove her shirt and her bra, and before I know it, we're naked on the sofa.

* * *

Word spreads over the next two days that Piper isn't returning to Mounthaven second semester. (She'd informed her students already, but the general school community was never told in a formal way.) Many teachers are sad to see her go and offer her praise and congratulations on her new position at Lander. A few well-wishers say they hope she'll consider teaching at Mounthaven in the future. Brent is the most disheartened by Piper's departure, but he has kept his mouth shut about her _real_ reason for leaving.

The history department throws her a small party on Friday afternoon, giving her flowers, a plant and a nameplate for her eventual permanent desk. Piper gets teary-eyed as she accepts the gifts and says goodbye. I've always admired the way she carries herself, and today is no different. Mounthaven would be lucky to have her on faculty full time in the future.

* * *

Three weeks go by before Piper and I decide we're ready to go out in public. We agree not to hold hands or kiss while we're out—this is a trip to test the waters. There is a high probability that we'll be spotted, but we want to see what kinds of looks or questions we get from people associated with Mounthaven.

Sure enough, we run into two Mounthaven families who approach us at lunch. One of the families reacts in a way that pins my ears back.

"Weren't you a teacher at Mounthaven?" the mother asks.

"I did one semester of my student teaching there," Piper responds with grace. "I'm at Lander Academy in South Hadley now."

The mom looks judgey. "I see."

"If you'll excuse us." I don't want Piper to feel cornered. "Have a nice afternoon."

"You, too." She and her son walk away.

"That wasn't _too_ bad," Piper says when the mom is out of earshot.

I shake my head. "If that's the worst we get, I'm ok with it."

A week later, we go out again, this time to dinner where I'll formally introduce her to Nicky, who has been dying to officially meet Piper.

As soon as we walk into Thai Ginger, the Mounthaven art department chair greets us.

She stands and hugs Piper. "What a lovely surprise! Good to see you."

"You, too." Piper pulls back.

"Alex, good to see you, too, but I just saw you yesterday," the teacher quips. "Are you two here together?"

"It would appear that way, yes," Piper replies. "We're meeting a friend."

The art teacher glances from Piper to me and then back to Piper. "Oh, well don't let me keep you."

"Nice to see you again," she says. "Enjoy your meal."

The hostess seats us at a table in the opposite direction of the teacher.

Piper smiles. "I'm getting the hang of this."

Nicky breezes in and finds our table. "Look who finally surfaces!" She hugs me. "And Piper, we've met before, but it was under far less joyful circumstances."

"At the Bridge Street Bar," Piper recalls. "I remember."

"You had on that skeleton onesie that nearly caused my friend here to break her leg."

Piper blushes.

"Have you worn that thing since?"

"Seeing as how it's nowhere near Halloween, no."

"I like her already." Nicky points at her. "A little spit and vinegar—my kind of gal."

Piper smiles. "I'm off the market, but I appreciate the compliment."

We order beers and dinner and the conversation flows just as I expected it to. I put my hand on Piper's knee under the table when a Mounthaven mom and dad walk in, but she doesn't seem to sweat it. Each time we acknowledge a Mounthaven connection, it's becoming easier and less nerve wracking. In fact, I'm just about ready to show some outward affection towards Piper.

Next time.

Just before we leave the restaurant, Piper goes to the restroom, giving Nicky and I a chance to talk.

"I gotta give it you, Vause, she's the total package." She pats me on the shoulder. "I can understand why you were so messed up when you couldn't be together."

"Yeah." I grin. "I'm glad those days are behind us."

She finishes her beer. "So, how serious is it?"

"Very." I raise my eyebrows. "It probably won't happen until Piper graduates, but I'll eventually propose."

"Holy shit!"

"Don't act all surprised," I chuckle. "You had to have seen this coming."

"I guess." She shrugs. "It's just…the thought of you being tied down—never thought I'd see the day."

"Me neither." I drain my beer and stand upon seeing Piper walk our way. "Ready?"

On the way out, I put my hand on Piper's lower back and stop at one of the tables. "Hello, Miller family," I greet one of our juniors and his parents. "Enjoying your Saturday night?"

"Yes, this is one of our favorite restaurants," the mother says. "How are you, Alex?"

"Great. We just had a lovely dinner; the Pad See Ew was phenomenal." I smile, hand still on Piper's back. "How's that ankle, Hugo?"

"A lot better. I should be able to play in the game next week."

"Glad to hear it. I know they've missed you on the court. I'll see you on Monday."

"Yep," the boy responds. "See you then."

We leave the restaurant, and Piper's eyes are sparkling. "That was bold!"

"What was?" I toy with her.

"Your hand on my back."

I shrug. "It just felt right. I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable."

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk. "You could kiss me in front of the whole school and it might make me uncomfortable at first, but I'd be elated."

I brush her hair off her shoulder and stand awfully close. "Oh, really?"

Piper nods.

"It might not be in front of the whole school, but I'm sure there are a few eyes on us now." I lean in to place a long, closed-mouth kiss on her lips.

"Yeah, like mine," Nicky chimes in.

I pull back and smile more at the fact that we just kissed in public than at Nicky's line. Piper's surprised look morphs into a grin.

"You ok?" I whisper, dragging my hand down the back of her arm.

She links our fingers. "I'm great. _Really_ great."

"You two lovebirds want to have a nightcap, or are you feeling horny and need to fuck?"

"God, Nicky!" I turn to my friend, embarrassed by her antics even though I usually find her sense of humor amusing.

"I'd prefer to skip the nightcap and fuck my girlfriend instead," she turns to me. "If that's alright with you."

My mouth hangs open.

"Spitfire! I like it." Nicky laughs. "Can't say that I blame you."

"Next time let's skip dinner and get drunk together." Piper shakes Nicky's hand. "How does that sound?"

"Marvelous." She pulls Piper into a hug. "Bring it in, kid. Thanks for making my friend happy."

"The pleasure is mine," Piper replies, returning her hand to mine.

"See you soon." I wave.

"You two kids take care!" Nicky calls as we make our way down the sidewalk.

I squeeze her hand. "Do you really want to go home or were you saying that to get rid of Nicky?"

"Oh no, I really _do_ want to go back to your place and fuck." She grins. "If that's alright with you."

Head rolled back, I let out a boisterous laugh. "You never have to wonder if I want to have sex with you. The answer will always be yes."

* * *

Author's Note: One chapter left! Thanks again for all the reviews. For those of you who asked, I'm not sure if there will be a Christmas story this year (or a sequel), but the holidays usually inspire me. Check my tumblr account to find out later this week.


	14. Chapter 14

Turns out, Piper enjoys teaching eighth grade. She also enjoys teaching a combination of English, history and geography. The administration at Lander Academy likes her so much they've ask her to stay, but Piper doesn't want to commit before weighing all her options. She attends an educator's job fair at Smith in mid-March and goes on two interviews at the end of the month—one at the charter school in Kent, the other at a boarding school about 20 miles away. Unsurprisingly, she gets offers at both.

For my part, life has been busy but good. There's always something new to tackle at Mounthaven, but that's what I love most about being head of upper school. My next task is to help create an interdisciplinary class for next year that will be team taught by a science teacher and an art teacher. I've toyed with the idea of getting back into the classroom as well, and the more I brainstorm about innovative curriculum, the more attracted I am to that possibility.

Piper and I have discussed moving in together after she graduates, but where she lives will be heavily dependent on where she chooses to teach. If she sticks with Lander Academy, she can stay in Northampton, though buying a car would make her commute a lot easier. If she chooses the boarding school, she's hinted at moving to Florence, which is about 15 miles away. Our preference is to stay in Northampton even if that means renting a house on the outskirts of town, making her commute a tiny bit easier.

We go out in Northampton and the surrounding towns about once a week, and each time, we see someone associated with Mounthaven. It's a small community, and we've come to terms with at least _me_ being recognized around town. We've gotten a few shocked expressions, but for the most part, people have minded their own business. That is, until I make it someone's business.

"Alex, so good to see you," Adam Goldfarb greets me with a warm handshake. "I was glad to get your call."

"Nice to see you, too," I reply. "Congratulations on Mandy's college acceptances. Sounds like she's leaning towards Connecticut College."

"I'd rather see her at Brandeis, but we're thrilled about all her choices." He moves behind the counter. "Now, how can I assist you today?"

"I'm looking at engagement rings." I can't believe I uttered those words aloud. Until this moment, it didn't seem real or possible that we'd get to this point.

A brief look of shock crosses his face—like he's thinking _the guy_ should buy the ring.

I quickly confirm that he's on board with gay marriage. "It's for my girlfriend."

He grins. "Let's try to make her your future fiancée."

I let out a breath and smile.

He pulls out a tray of engagement rings, and all of them are too traditional. The second tray has a couple of decent choices, so he puts them aside. When he takes out the third tray, my eyes latch onto a ring in the middle.

"Can I see that one?"

He presents it to me. "It's designed by Grace Lee and called _Crown Bezel_. The band is rose gold."

"I've never seen an octagon diamond before." I put it on the tip of my finger and watch the diamond glisten in the light.

"The diamond is actually round, but the head is octagonal," he starts. "It's a three-quarter carat, and the accent stones around the center make it a full carat."

"It's beautiful." I close my eyes for a moment and picture it on Piper's finger. "I'll take it."

"Wonderful choice." He dips under the counter for the box. "Do you know her ring size?"

"She's a seven." My pulse quickens as I realize the weight of this moment. "Can you resize it if it's too big or small?"

"Of course, and it's complimentary. Just send her in after the proposal." He puts the ring in the box. "This one retails for $1,100, but I'm happy to provide you with a discount for being so good to Mandy these past four years."

I'm flattered. "You don't have to do that."

"I insist." He smiles. "Would you like anything engraved on the inside?"

I hadn't thought about that. "What do people usually get?"

"The date of the engagement, their names, a heart or an infinity symbol…that sort of thing." He processes my credit card. "It's on the interior of the ring, so no one will see it." Adam leans closer. "I had one man put _sexy beast_ on it."

I laugh, feeling my pulse return to normal with the help of his humor. "Maybe I'll just stick with _Alex and Piper_."

"Will do." He hands me the credit card slip to sign. "I'll have my assistant engrave it right now if you'd like to wait, or you could pick it up tomorrow."

"I'll wait."

I sit on the leather sofa and look at my surroundings. _I'm in a fucking jewelry store buying Piper an engagement ring_. I laugh at myself, feeling my cheeks heat up with the blush that rushes over me. I never thought I'd be married to anyone, much less to a woman who is 14 years younger than me. A flash of doubt fills my mind, but I brush it off just as quickly as it surfaced. I want this—I want her…forever.

 _Are you picking me up or should I meet you there?_ Comes by way of text from Piper.

I didn't realize it had gotten this late. We're going to happy hour with Nicky and her new flame of the month.

 _Be there in 15 minutes_.

If I'm going to make it to Piper's in 15 minutes, there's no way I can go home to store the ring.

I stand, hooking my bag over my arm. "Sorry, I thought I could hang out for a bit, but I'm running a little late. Mind if I get the ring tomorrow?"

"Don't mind at all. See you then."

I rush out of the jewelry store to meet my future fiancée.

* * *

Two weeks go by with the engagement ring burning a hole in my pocket. I should've waited to buy it, because every time I'm with Piper, I come _this close_ to proposing.

Peggy rolls her chair back. "Louisa would like to see you when you're free."

I cross my brows. "Did she mention what it's about?"

"Nope." She rolls back. "You don't have any meetings this afternoon, so can I tell her you'll be there in the next 30 minutes?"

"I'll go now." I push away from my desk, wanting to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later.

What if Barry told her he saw us on the boat, and now Louisa has questions for me? What if a family complained that I'm dating a former teacher, and Louisa wants to discuss the ramifications?

I take a few deep breaths before reaching her office. "Hi, Louisa wanted to see me," I announce to her assistant.

"You can go right in."

"Thanks."

I walk into her office and stand ramrod straight. "You wanted to see me?"

"Come in, Alex." Her relaxed smile is refreshing to see. "Let me put your mind at ease—you're not in trouble."

I exhale loudly and put a hand over my heart. "Thank God."

"Please, have a seat."

I sit across from her and wait to hear why I was summoned.

"I think what I have to say will be good news," she begins. "Either that or it'll be neutral, but it's definitely not bad."

"Ok…" I trail.

"Layla Hayward is leaving." She lets that hang in the air, but I'm not following; I hardly recognize the name. "Eighth grade humanities teacher."

It finally dawns on me.

"The first person I thought of was Piper."

"Piper?" I can hardly speak—never in a million years did I imagine a scenario like this.

"Before we ask her to come in for an interview, I wanted to see how you'd feel about that—about her working in our middle school."

"I…wow. I was _not_ expecting that."

"After reading the student evaluations last semester and after several conversations with Brent, it's evident Piper has the chops to be a highly effective teacher. Everyone who interacted with her loved her," she states. "I knew she couldn't work in the high school, so when Layla told me she and her husband were moving to Vermont, Piper came to mind."

"I'm sure she'd be flattered," I reply. "And I agree, she's a gifted teacher who knows how to get through to even the toughest kids."

Louisa nods. "I heard she was doing her student teaching at Lander Academy in eighth grade humanities."

"That's right."

"How does she like it?"

"She loves it," I say. "In fact, we were just talking about how she might prefer eighth grade over high school. She likes dipping her toes in English, history and geography instead of just one subject."

"That's what I was hoping to hear." Louisa removes her glasses. "Would you be ok if we asked her to interview for the position?"

"Are you kidding? She'd love it!" I say through a wide smile. " _I'd_ love it."

"Very well, then. I'll e-mail her before the end of the day. Let's keep this conversation confidential for now."

"Understood." I get to my feet. "Thank you again."

I'm bursting with glee at the possibility of being able to work with Piper again, only this time, not as her boss. We'd be on the same campus, but she'd teach down the hill and have literally nothing to do with the upper school. I'm hoping Louisa sends the e-mail to Piper soon so I don't have to hold my glee in for too long.

Two hours later, I'm at home and I hear a knock on the door.

I open it and see a smiling Piper. "How is it that you don't have a key to my house?"

"You're never going to believe what just happened!" she says instead of _hello_.

I step aside. "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

She bursts into the living room. "Louisa just e-mailed me, inviting me to apply for the eighth grade humanities position at Mounthaven for next fall!"

"What?!" I act surprised. "Piper, that's amazing!"

She grabs my arms. "I know! It's the best news I've gotten in months!"

I give her a peck on the lips. "I'm assuming you'll apply?"

Her smile is so wide I'm worried her face might crack. "I already did!"

"You certainly work fast." I take her hand and lead her to the couch.

"This would be the best of both worlds." She remains standing while I take a seat. "We'd both work at Mounthaven, but I wouldn't report to you."

"That would be ideal."

She nods. "I really hope I get it."

I smile. "I think you have a good shot."

"I have to let the boarding school know if I want to take the position by next Friday, so the timing is a little tight."

"Do you want to teach at the boarding school?"

"Not really." She finally sits next to me. "I don't know if I like that whole boarding culture; besides, it's so far away."

"Ok, well, I know Louisa works pretty fast when it comes to filling positions, so hopefully you'll interview early next week and hear from her a few days later."

"Hopefully." She smiles again and throws her arms around my neck. "Now, let's go back to the whole me not having a key thing."

* * *

As I suspected, Louisa wastes no time in getting Piper in for an interview, first with Barb Kershner, the head of middle school, and then with Louisa herself. I'm waiting not so patiently in my office for Piper to fill me in on the details.

"Hi, Peggy," I hear Piper's voice from the vestibule. "Is Alex available?"

"I'm here." I immediately stand behind my desk. "Well?"

She enters my office. "I got the job!"

I crinkle my forehead. "Wait, what? I thought today was only an interview?"

"So did I! I met with Barb for like 45 minutes, and then with Louisa for 15—she said they'd be honored to have me on staff!"

I throw my arms around her. "Oh my God!"

"I know!"

I twirl her around with joy. "I'm so proud of you, babe."

"Congratulations, Piper," Peggy calls from just outside (we left the door wide open). "I guess this means I better get used to public displays of affection."

"Ignore her," I whisper in Piper's ear. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks. I'm over the moon!"

We go out that night to celebrate, but the real celebration happens at home when no sooner are we in the door before I start unzipping Piper's pants. We fuck against the front door, and then decide moving to the bedroom would be so much better.

* * *

A week later on an ordinary Wednesday, Piper comes over with Mimmo's Pizza. I know this is the day.

"What kind did you get?"

"Bacon and artichoke—today's special."

I smile. "You do realize the significance of that, don't you?"

She furrows her brow. "No, what is it?"

"It's the pizza you brought to my office the second time we discussed curriculum development," I say. "You don't remember that?"

"Oh, yeah," she offers. "I'm starving. Mind if we eat now?"

"Before we do, I finally got a key made for you." I grab the small box from a drawer in the side table and hand it to her.

"It's about time." Piper opens the box, but instead of a key inside, there's the engagement ring. Her eyes widen as she stares at it, then looks at me, then back at the ring. "Oh my God, Alex!"

I take the box from her and get on one knee. "Piper Elizabeth Chapman, from the moment I met you, I wanted you to be the one. You are my guiding force and the love of my life. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Before I know it, she's on the ground with me, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, yes, yes!"

I try to kiss the tears away, but it's no use—they keep falling. "I love you so much."

"Me, too," she says through a sniffle. "You make me so happy."

I nod, pull back and kiss her with both hands on her cheeks. "I intend to do exactly that for the rest of our lives."

She kisses me. "But I still don't have a fucking key."

We erupt in a fit of laughter on the floor. It's going to be a good life.

The End

* * *

Author's Note: Again, thank you to each of you who reviewed this story! I really appreciate the time you took to tell me your thoughts.


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